Until She Can't
by hey-torch
Summary: It's what she's always done. As long as she can it's what she'll always do...postLDYB AU
1. The Silence of Storms

**A/N: This is an idea I've been playing with and going 'hmm…maybe…why not? Ok!' for some time. What prompted me to do it now? I read in the KC Star (newspaper for you non Kansas City-ans out there) I think in January or so an interview with Katee and - god I can't remember if it was Eick or Moore, but anyway - one of those two and I quote: _" 'Something profound will happen to Starbuck in the March episode Maelstrom.' says -_whichever of them it was- _but neither - _name_ - nor Sackhoff will confirm or deny the rumors of the character's death."_ Anyway, I was like "What? No…deny it! Deny! Deny! Deny!" anyway, after I got over that, I filed it away in my brain part for a while and began scribbling some stuff down only to have it also filed away for some time. But after this last ep I saw the promo for Maelstrom and remembered all that. Long story short- I decided I wanted to get this up before said _"profound" _event occurs thus changing BSG as we know it forever! -enter dramatic music here- **

**Now….having colossally wasted our time with that… let's get a-going!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it and I'm not pretending otherwise…No sue ronnie. She has no money. But I own the seasons on DVD and I paid for those damn it! You can't take them from me! **

**Me likey reviews! Honest ones though….hit me!**

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Familiar gray halls passed by as he moved swiftly, steps echoing in the vacant hall. The noise, usually dull and lost amongst so many others, invaded ever inch of air like angry claps of thunder. The hallways weren't in their usual state of traffic and busyness, thanks much in part to the time and the absence of any Cylon attacks for some time now. He figured word of what happened had already spread through the ship just as rapidly as talk and gossip always did. The crew probably talking about it in one form or another. Speculating and discussing the version of the tale they'd heard.

He'd wanted to make the trip as soon as he'd been informed of what happened, but being Admiral, that wasn't really an option. He was busy going taking care of all the red tape aspects that came with the situation. That had taken hours, and as much as he wanted to answers from the source…protocol. As much as he hated it, it was the best way to deal with this if he wanted it to be taken care of with a nice, clean ending for all parties involved. Now, at nearly 0100, hours after the occurrence that led to this, he finally had his opportunity. So he went.

His appearance calm and controlled, his steps - albeit rushed - steady and rhythmic, it was all a guise. The mask that hid the chaotic existence beneath. His mind flying in all sorts of uncontrolled directions, his heart beating viciously at the bottom of his throat, it was all he could do not to dart off in a full run down the corridor. Of course he knew that wasn't a possibility. Even if he was alone in the space, he still had to keep a stoic demeanor of his rank.

As the aged metal plates of his ship continued to move alongside him in the seemingly endless path, he began the process of calming himself before arriving. Calming his inner self, anyway, outer appearance showed he was as collected as ever. He took in calculated breaths of the recycled air. Attempting to ease the concern that caused the nervousness.

Finally reaching the hatch, he returned the salutes to the standing marines, one of whom opened the door for him. After ducking through the opening, he easily spotted what he sought out. The specific one in the back; the one with the extra marine standing guard. A sign that signaled the person there wasn't in for a nothing reason like getting a in a drink induced scuff with another crew member. It meant they'd done something serious enough that it was thought extra detail was best for them.

A sick taste rose in his mouth.

Approaching, he mentally searched for how he was to begin once there. But the back of the room was a lot closer than he'd allowed his mind to believe. It took no time to pass by the mostly empty cells - but for one or two occupied by a drunk sleeping it off. Coming upon it, he instantly halted the guard before he could make the announcement of his presence, unneeded for the occasion. He didn't want this to be about the Admiral visiting the prisoner, he hated to use that word here. Keeping it to a simple salute, he nodded to the armed man.

"Leave us." he told him quietly, his voice rough in the two syllables.

"Sir, I suggest- " the man's words silenced by the glare the older man shot at him. He may want this to be an informal visit, but that didn't extend to this man, and it certainly didn't mean he was going to let his orders be questioned.

"I said, step out." voice just as quiet, meant for his ears only, but the authority was as threatening in the same was as if the command had been hollered in his face.

"Yes sir." he nodded, saluted him once more and, obeying the order, exited.

Adama waited a moment, watching the man, wanting to make sure he was out of range before he did anything. Once satisfied that the words he spoke would be heard only by the two of them, he turned his gaze ahead of him; through the bars of the cell.

Eyes falling instantly to the smooth surface of the floor where he found her lying on her back. Long ago - well, not that long ago, really - the knowledge of her being there would've had him chuckling to himself and dismissing it amusedly. 'Just Starbuck.' he'd tell himself and get on with his day.

But not now.

Now he found himself worrying about her reaction to being there. How she'd take being in the cell. He didn't know what it'd been like back there and could only hope that it hadn't been too similar to Galactica's accommodations. He truly feared her response to it. Being locked up.

Yet he saw her now. Lying flat, facing the ceiling silently. He couldn't see her face clearly, he thought for a moment he saw that her eyes were closed but doubted highly she slept. Remaining quiet, he took the time to simply observe. Everything had been so hectic lately, he hadn't had the time to see her. Really see her.

Question rose in his mind, inquiring as to why she chose the floor rather than the bunk placed only feet away from her. Setting the question aside, piling it with the infinite stack of others, he swallowed and prepared to speak. Hoping his voice didn't betray him. She knew he was there. There was no way she couldn't, unless she'd truly been sleeping. But he knew the likeliness of that. So he made the words come out.

"What do ya hear, Starbuck?" he'd known the whole time really, what he'd say. Known it'd be those words before any others were spoken between them. If they weren't the only ones that is. He waited a moment - baited breath- for her to answer. The moment stretched, silence taking residence once again was disappointing to say the least.

He didn't know whether to repeat himself or take his leave now. Return - officially, with rank - after some hours of shut eye for an insight of the event that occurred. If he made it official she'd answer questions. A soldier above everything. No matter what personal troubles were being faced, he knew it would always be that way. He'd just greatly hoped it wouldn't have to be that way. That they could just speak to each other.

"Nothing," it pulled him from his thoughts. "but the rain."

Eyes on the voice's owner, he couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. She hadn't moved, still horizontal, hands resting on her chest. But she had answered him, thus the threat of a smile. More a relieved happiness than anything else. Not complete, but relief nonetheless.

Having established the nature of the visit, that he wasn't speaking simply as her commanding officer, he prepared to continue. Adjusting his glasses, he felt the words his words begin to form easier now.

"You don't like the bed?" he asked, keeping his questions lighter before getting to the bigger issues. Her chest rose and fell with a sigh.

Other than that, no answer and he wondered for the millionth time what exactly happened. What happened to her to change the girl he'd held in his heart so drastically? He had several people aboard various parts of the ship, spies of sort but he would use that word. Meant to keep him informed on how everyone was handling the reintegration back into their old lives after the horrors on New Caprica. But he'd paid special attention to her progress.

From what he'd been told - as well as seen first hand for himself - maybe progress wasn't the best word. She ate little and slept less. Her days spent mostly devoted to her Viper's maintenance or fighting her invisible demons in the gym. Bringing her body back to its former condition and beyond. It hadn't gone unnoticed how depleted her physical appearance had become upon her return; muscles thinned and dilapidated. The years of daily work put into their health and sculpture wiped away as nothing. But sleepless nights spent sparring with those demons had shaped the soldier's form to a tighter, more defined glory that most would never want to face on the other end of a fight.

Which almost directly brought them to this point. The story that'd been brought to him by one of the black clad marine's was that's where she'd been; the gym. According to both Agathons and four or five newer crew members who'd been there - and had the marks to prove it - she'd been going at it intensely on the heavy bag. A little too intense for Captain Agathon. To the point Helo became concerned enough to approach her_ "She wasn't wearing gloves and her hands were starting to bleed. She didn't even notice. I was worried." _Her response to his physical contact - _"Helo came behind her and as soon as he touched her, she flipped!"_ - was to spin around and turn the man into the punching bag. The same thing happened, with worse results, to Lt. Agathon when trying to remove the pilot from her husband.

Apparently it'd taken the joint effort of the small group to get her off and away from the Cylon officer until whoever had been sent to fetch the marines had returned with a couple in toe. But those who tried keeping her back from Sharon had paid their own due for it. Two broken noses, plenty of black eyes and bruises and a fair amount of blood later, she was in the cell before him. Under heavy guard. He didn't think it was necessary. Helo should've known better than sneak up on her. One of the many excuses he was trying to work for her.

"You get used to it." she spoke quietly. So quietly for a moment he was sure whether or not she'd actually said anything.

"What?" he asked cautiously, hoping she would return to silence because he hadn't been sure what he'd heard and didn't respond to her satisfaction.

Another quiet sigh, and she pulled herself up to her feet. Another relieving moment. She moved towards him, the few steps enough to expose the slight limp that now seemed permanent. He ignored it, not wanting it to grab his focus, just as he did for the light scar along her neck. Barely there, but visible when you were close enough.

"You get used to it." she repeated, before elaborating. "The floor."

"Right." he nodded. She hadn't spoke about any of it, but he never really expected she'd been given the Cloud 9 treatments. Let alone the simplest supply of a mattress. So, when he thought about it, which he didn't like to do, it made sense why she was on the floor.

"You know, you'd think you'd love to be in a bed again. Pillow, mattress, the works." she continued after his word of reply. "But then when you're there…" she shrugged her shoulders, signaling the end of her thought. A few seconds of silence, where she was looking at the wall past him rather than him. He couldn't not wonder where she was right then. Where she'd gone in her mind. More specifically, what exact time she'd gone to. He had the feeling he knew where it was, just not when. "How's Helo?" she asked after pulling herself from whatever memory she'd lapsed into.

"He's fine." answering her. "I think his pride took the worst of it." his words both joking and honest at the same time. The man was no doubt embarrassed about how easily she'd caught him off guard and had been able to take control only relieving it when her attention shifted. "Sharon too. Busted up her jaw pretty bad. Few nights in sick bay, she'll be fine."

"Great." less then genuine. The news obviously nothing she cared to hear. She'd asked about Helo specifically. Not his counterpart. The Cylon. Sharon the Cylon would be fine.

Her response to the information should have been expected. He knew before New Caprica she'd been able to form some sort of tolerance to the Cylon. He couldn't call it friendship by any stretch of the imagination, it was more of an indifference to her presence and all around existence. But now it was back to what it was for all of them. Pure hatred. No wonder she'd gotten the worst of the attack.

There are many copies.

She probably dealt with many 'Sharon's' while stuck there. Fighting with them had become a second nature. A necessity for her survival. Everyone who'd been t here had different stories. Different experiences. From what he'd heard living under Cylon occupation was bad enough, but then there were the others. Those kept in the machine's prisons. Who had Gods knew what done to them for some reason or another; or no reason at all knowing the Cylons.

The thought brought his eyes to her left shoulder. The tight, pink scar peaking out from beneath the tanks she wore. The end - or beginning, depending on however one wanted to think of it - of one of many that dressed her back. He hadn't seen for himself but had the report after her unpleasant -at least some things never change - check with Cottle upon her return. The old doctor had been noticeably disturbed by it. _"It's a frakkin chop job." _

Unintentionally, he focused on the mark. It looking like the head of a menacing snake, creeping out from under a rock to face him as if he were prey for the striking. A dark creature, daring Adama to ask or imagine the nature of it's creation. As much as he wanted to know everything, he feared the details would be too upsetting.

Her fingers adjusting the fabric of the outermost shirt, moving it to an unnatural position to cover the focal point of his gaze.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" Her voice following the removal of it from view. Blinking the invoked thoughts away, the hold it seemed to have on him broken, he realized he'd been staring at it. Not too subtly, judging by her actions and the guarded edge of her tone.

"No." he conceded, deciding to give it a night. His mind toyed with the idea of apologizing but knew it wasn't going to happen. "That'll be all, Captain." Answering officially as she'd done. He could do that. He wondered if they would've been able to keep speaking if he hadn't been taken in by the mar on her light skin. She straightened and saluted, him doing the same to release her from the position, and turned to exit. Before stepping away, he turned back to her; the need to say something more just too strong to ignore.

"Kara," he started, as informal as possible. Another step towards the bars diving the two of them, she waited for him to say what he needed to. She was already ground for the time being, if he was there to tell her what happened today made it for life than she'd rather he just do it and be done. " I can't say I know what you're dealing with or what you've been through." he started, speaking honestly. "But I do know you. I know your resilience and your strength."

The woman in front of him crossed her arms protectively over her chest, shifting her weight off her good knee then back again. Things like this always made her uncomfortable for some reasons he never fully knew or understood.

"We both know how fast things can reach their worst. How easily everything can change to something horrible. But…" he took a second to collect his thoughts and organize them into the words that would correctly fit them. "Once the smoke clears, and we're lucky enough to be left standing, we go on. Not because we forget. Not because we hurt less or grieve less. We do it because we have to. Because we can." he stretched his arm through the bars, resting his hand on her shoulder. Ignoring the way she flinched under the contact. "And because we deserve to. You'll be alright." he assured, praying he wasn't lying. "There'll be an official debriefing tomorrow at 1200. Anything you'd like to tell me before then?" He waited a beat before nodding. "Ok. Get some sleep."

She watched him turn away, debating silently with herself whether or not to tell him some of the things that came to mind when he asked his last question.

Things like she'd never meant to hurt Helo. She was too out of it, fighting the heavy bag angrily, her mind back on that damn rock they called a planet. He touched her and she swore she was there again. That he was one of them.

Things like her mind had cleared by the time she was on top of his toaster wife. That she knew what she was doing when her fists went repeatedly into it's face. That she would've killed it if they hadn't finally pulled her away.

Things like she lied to him…

She hadn't heard the rain in a long time.


	2. Everything Old is New Again

**A/N: Yay for reviews! And boo…BSG you brilliantly heartbreaking bastards! Anyway, I really wanted to put another chap up before the ep last night, but a series of time consuming events and one very poignant episode later…here I am. Forgive me, I have a tendency to ramble., hence the lengthy chapters. ---- Explain time: there will be time jumps a-plenty throughout the story between the present ( brought to you in chapter one) and going back to N.C. (brought to you below) That's all I have.**

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Breath rushed from her body in a gust of air; shoved out by the foot that swung deep into her stomach. Momentum forcing the fallen body to roll away from the ever advancing machine. Sweat and blood smearing the floor as her head lay against the cool, flat surface. Her assailant's pause granting the opportunity to try to retrieve the stolen breath. A few seconds of nothing, the unexplained break in the constant attack the first of it's kind, she felt the oxygen returning to her lungs.

Gritting her teeth, she shifted her reluctant legs beneath her, propping herself up on her knees and elbows, the thick metal of the restraints heavy on her wrists. Looking at the floor she attempted to rise from, she took notice how the splatters and smears red jumped out so vibrantly from the shocking white that covered every inch of the room.

"This is fun, right?" the voice asked, calm, even steps towards her. Heels clicking steadily, a patient rhythm against the floor, she thought, for a moment, of her father's metronome. Swinging back and forth; keeping time, resting on it's home atop the piano.

The white room became a burst of sparks and color and a high pitched whine filled her ears. Her head turned fiercely to the side, the force of the blow - she didn't even see it this time. Another kick, maybe? This time to her face?- returning her to the ground.

"Just like old times." the same voice, sounding farther away as her mind twirled and spun from the impact, muffled as if listening from underwater. The familiar copper-like taste in her mouth, falling from her parted lips in strings of blood and saliva. More color on the canvas she'd been painting since this started. "You remember Delphi." it wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact. Not about remembering the city she'd lived in at one point. It was about remembering what happened there. Between them in the museum. The fight she'd only spoke of when she drunkenly held the floor of the rec room on Galactica- the great Starbuck taking on a Cylon one-on-one weaponless save for her bare hands . But even in her most inebriated state, she never divulged detail of how thoroughly she'd had her ass handed to her. How helpless she felt. She left that part out, Helo backing up her story without breaking silence of parts she didn't touch on.

Teetering on the edge of consciousness, her brain returned to focus, she blamed the many blows for her momentary lapse. The metronome. That belonged to Kara. Those were things she thought about when she was wide awake lying in her bunk in the dark room. Timing her beating heart to a quiet melody she heard only in her head. Those were Kara's memories. And Kara was no good here.

"A lot of your filthy, blasphemous blood in the dirt that day." it mused, still speaking of the fight so long ago. The fog in her head cleared; the words coming to her ears sharper and unmarred.

Starbuck. Thick skinned, smartass, tough as nails, fearless Starbuck. Straining to detach from the physical pain, she ignored her body's protest and again lifted herself to the former knelt position. Spitting the taste from her mouth, a pained sound - something of a groan or cry - escaped her, vocalizing the agony screaming silently in through her entire form. She struggled to push it all to the very back of her mind. There would be a time for it later. She'd let herself feel it all later. Not now.

"Speak up, Starbuck." it demanded, teasingly using her call sign, as if the sound were a remark of some kind. "Can't hear you down there."

"I said…" pushing herself to lean back on her ankles. Glaring up at the standing blonde, still in the process of regulating her breathing. "…looks like I got my…filthy blood…all over your pretty clean floor." The cuffs rattled as she raised her hand to wipe at the crimson threatening to trail over her right eye. Not caring about the rest that rolled over and covered various parts of her face. She just wanted to be able to see this toaster bitch. After dropping them again, she tilted her head just barely. Purely Starbuck, challenging authority. Sarcastically: "Sorry."

A smirk from the machine - it was supposed to be a woman. It wasn't. - and the flat of the shoe making blunt contact with the center of her chest. Just hard enough to know her back down. No where near as hard as it could be. She knew full well the inhuman strength of the machine was capable of shoving her foot right through her chest and out her back if it was her intention.

This thing didn't want to kill her. Not yet anyway. It just wanted her to know who was in control. To make the point known that it wasn't her. It was as irritating as it was true. Since the start of the interrogation - calling it that lightly since it asked one question immediately before all this fun started. - it had been in control.

"Just like old times." it repeated itself, standing over her. Laying on her back, looking up at it, she demanded her body to lift itself again. The aching piercing down to the very bones that pieced her together opposed the thought. But she was damned if she was going to stay laying down with this, or any, frakking toaster looking down on her. It enjoyed it too much.

"Yeah." she agreed from her place. Body still arguing with her orders. "I have something you want and you're not getting it from me."

Years ago it'd been the Arrow. Now, on New Caprica, it was information.

Grabbing a fistful of stained blonde hair, the Cylon easily lifted her from the floor as if she were weightless. Her back coming down hard on the flat of the metallic table top that she woke before in a chair of the same material some hours ago. Or maybe it was a whole day ago. This felt like it'd been going on for much longer than it probably truly had. Air was instantly cut off; the hand clamped down over her exposed throat.

"Do you know how easily I could rip your throat out?" sneering; baring teeth like a snarling beast anxious to kill it's next meal. "I could do it right now without even blinking."

Chest began burning; pleading for the return of sweet oxygen. Kicking her legs, she felt the table at her back shudder and vibrate with the pointless action. Each thump against the surface was a wasted effort. Wrapping her hands around the arm that extended from the vice-like grip, Starbuck pulled at it. Tugging desperately, human strength doing nothing to the immovable hold. Lungs screamed, heart pounded loudly, head throbbing. She reached up for the malicious face above her.

The length of it's limbs, built and designed to appear a lean, statuesque woman, kept it just out of reach. Even if she'd been able to reach, there weren't many options. Not enough slack to pull of an effective enough punch to get it to release, if even momentarily.

"Wanna know a secret?" it asked, pausing as if she could answer the stupid question. The black blurred the edges of her vision. Seeping in slowly. Framing the world in a darkening curtain. "I could care less if you never say a word about your annoying little resistance." Arms getting heavier, strength quickly diminishing. Shadows spreading in layers over everything she saw. It leaned in closer, face inches from her own. She'd have spit in it if she could've managed the action. The room was tilting. She'd pass out soon. "Because this part is so much fun. And I'm looking forward to washing your stinking blood, " running the index finger of her free hand down the side of her bloodied face. "off my hands everyday for a long time." Wiping the same finger, wet with the color that clung to it, on the already dirty shirt covering the suffocating chest.

After wordless watching her write a moment more, it released it's hold on the airway, effortlessly tossing the body from the table. Hitting the floor hard enough to bounce, the soldier immediately erupted in a fit of coughs. Humid air in the room tasting fresh as ever to deprived lungs. Curled on her side, back to her captor, her stomach lunged as she gagged on the air entering through her raw windpipe. Touching her fingers lightly to the tender area of her neck, she barely heard the words of the satisfied toaster.

"Are we clear, Lieutenant?"

Once the room leveled out and the pumping blood stopped it's thunderous drumming in her ears, the inner debate raged. Demanding herself to rise, her body adamantly opposed. Screaming with every motion; arguing on behalf of every blow and strike it'd absorbed throughout the exchange, the results of which residing in every inch of her. Wanting nothing more than to collapse and return to the quiet darkness of the inert world of unconsciousness. But that wasn't the stronger of the two sides.

No way. Not yet. And not in front of this metal bitch.

She was Starbuck. Starbuck didn't lay down because it hurt. Starbuck didn't stop; not until she was forced.

Moving her body, physical anguish defeated and pushed aside. No knees this time. Another demand. Another direct command with no room for argument or protest. The Cylon, for whatever reason she didn't care, did nothing as she made to rise. Maybe it found amusement in her persistence. No matter. Clearing her rough throat, she lifted herself - none too gracefully, but lifted nonetheless - to her feet. Balance swaying just once, she squared her shoulders and looked the slightly taller blonde in the eyes. Fake eyes. Manufactured and built to imitate.

"You should really update that database of yours." she remarked, bravado of the warrior giving legs strength enough to step forward without falter. "It's Captain." she corrected. Setting her jaw firm, holding herself with the respect that came with the rank she'd earned. The Cylon raised an eyebrow, definitely amused by the display. "It's been Captain for a while now. It's ok you didn't know. Software's just a little out of date."

It grinned. The smile shifting shadows on it's face, exposing the true nature hidden to an inexperienced or unfamiliar eye. A monster in another's clothing. It chuckled, something that might be called laughter if it wasn't all part of some complex program instilled for the purpose of further continuing their mockery of humans.

The Captain saw an opportunity when the irritatingly amused Cylon looked away with that insulting smile; as if it was all a great joke. A window; barely there. The machine gazing away for less than a second. If she'd been someone else; someone who thought before acting, she'd have missed it and with it her chance. Through the entire 'interrogation' the Cylon hadn't once lost the upper hand. But the eyes and impulse of Starbuck saw the opening and acted.

Throwing herself at it in a full body tackle; reminiscent of the fight at Delphi it loved to bring up so much. If only due to surprise, the impact took it down. 'Like old times' Starbuck landed on top the specific model, though, unfortunately, it's death was not the outcome. This time there was nothing to land on but the hard floor. The chain linking her hands to one another not allowing for her desire to reel back and swing alternating punches into it. Instead, knotting her fingers together, making a ball of her two hands, she raised her arms over her head and brought them back down. Finally feeling the sensation of striking the false flesh. Adrenaline surged, giving her ability to jump almost instantly to her feet. Pain a distant memory as her heart sent the angry blood streaming through her veins.

Stepping up, she growled shoving her boot into it. Carnal pleasure rising with each indignant grunt and groan exerted from the impersonator. Repeatedly connecting with the ribs and stomach and back of the floored creation. Most primal instincts fueling the blood lust.

"Speak up, mother frakker!" she shouted at it, mirroring the words spoken to her earlier before forcefully giving it another blow. "Come on!"

Hair matting against her face, sticking in the blood and sweat coating the skin. She felt the warm liquid continuing to exit from various locations but paid it no attention as long as it didn't hinder what was happening. Her mind recalled the chair, waking up in the uncomfortable furniture and forgetting it the second it - and with it, her - first met the ground at the hands of this Cylon. She concluded a short time ago, that it was a reasonable enough weapon. It had to be killed before she could even think about escape, and the chair was as good as anything else to do it with.

Bringing the heel of the boot down onto it's face, she hoped it'd be enough to stall the frakker long enough for her to get her hands on the makeshift weapon. First sparing the glance to find it, it lay overturned and forgotten near the far wall. The second, just as long as the one her enemy presented to her. And just as she had, it acted on a miniscule opportunity. From the floor, it's leg shot out, pointed toe of the shoe striking the side of her knee. The joint buckled instantly, a cry forcing it's way out before she could even think.

White hot pain igniting a heavy wave of nausea. Cursing to herself. Same damn knee. Swimming in the agony induced queasiness, her mind briefly wondered if it'd been a lucky shot or if it already had the knowledge of her long living physical weakness. Hoping for the former, she inhaled sharply. Holding the breath in her chest, prepped herself for the unavoidable pain, and attempted to rise yet again. The same logic. She'd keep getting up. The weight on the struck knee forcing the air back out in a distress drenched exhale, keeping her in place.

Returning eyes in the thing's direction, she saw the Gods damned toaster already up. Taking sweet time to dust at her clothes. It knew. Damn it to frakkin hell, it knew she wasn't going moving anywhere fast.

'Get up Thrace.' the voice mentally ordered her angrily. 'Pick your sorry ass up this second!' Starbuck's voice. Starbuck's attitude and tenacity demanding her to grit her teeth, suck it up and get on her feet. 'Frak the pain. Frak the damn knee. Get up before the bitch gets any closer.'

Resolving to do just that. Starbuck, bit down and adjusted her legs, feeling all too well the newly resurrected injury. Acidic bile rose in her throat.

"Good show, _Captain._" exaggerating the title as if were an insult. Angrily noting the closeness of the voice and the cast shadow telling the nearness of it's owner. Advantage definitely lost.

Lifting her head, the face above her now sporting it's own shade of red. Even bled like people. Too bad they didn't die like them. She saw the fist. Saw it's approach but felt nothing before returning to the shadows; The black abyss welcoming her back.

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	3. Magnolia

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Down…Up.

Control. It's what it all came down to. Control. Knowing the difference between what she could and could not control. Between what she did and didn't. Knowing the difference, accepting that thinking and worrying and stressing over what you couldn't control was pointless, could keep a person sane.

Down…Up.

The rigid position of her body. Her breathing. How close to the ground she got. How long she held there before pushing back up. These she controlled.

Down…

The words she spoke. The answers she gave. She controlled.

Up.

On the other side; what was done with those words. The conclusions drawn from those answers. Whatever decisions made about her future or career. This was out of her hands. She had no control.

Down…

And what a career it was. What a life. Up. Caring for a bird she couldn't take out. Down. A bunk she couldn't sleep in. Up. Stares. Down. Gods, the damned stares. Up. Eyes and whispers. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Eyes that looked when they thought she didn't know. Up. Down. Up. She did. She felt them. Down. Up. Down. Every time. Up. All the time. Down. Turned away when she looked back. Up. Daring them to look in her eyes. Down. They never did. Up.

Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.

The ground, cool to the touch under her flat palms, approached and retreated quicker and quicker beneath the movement of her straightened form. Train of thought invoking the increased pace. The angry stream in her mind finally came to a stop. Halted by the short jingle of the chain. Standard issue beaded chain. Swinging out during the repeated actions.

Holding position, arms - straight and unwavering as the steel surrounding her - braced against the floor, she kept her gaze directly before her. The octagonal metal tags hanging loosely. Two of them. Taken separately down to New Caprica and brought back together on a single chain with her.

His eyes vacant in their stare. Lifeless, soulless orbs seeing nothing. Blue even in the overwhelming shadows. His neck still warm when she removed the trinket. Lying next to him in the dark. Arms wrapped around his stomach. Head on his chest. Part of her was sure - absolutely convinced - if she stayed there long enough, if she held him tight enough, she'd hear the heart beating beneath her ear again. His chest would begin to rise and fall. Those arms would move and return her embrace. She was sure.

But…

A heavy clang shot away the reverie. The flat floor staring her in the face with the smallest circular spot. Gray darkened by the wet drop. A tear? Had it slipped out without her noticing? No. Sweat. She'd lost track of how many push-ups she'd done and how long she'd been doing them. She was beaded with sweat. A few drops were bound to fall to the floor. It was just sweat.

The noise she recognized as the thick door, meaning one of three things. Someone visiting. Someone coming to serve their own punishment. Shift change for the ever present guard stationed just feet from her.

Balancing her weight on one hand, she used the other to tuck the chain back behind her shirt. Starting over, the steady down-up action began again. The straining returned to the muscles of her arms. Expanding and contracting with the routine motion.

Down…Up.

Footsteps closer and closer until they stopped. Words exchanged not targeted towards her. A brief conversation not meant for her. About a minute later, footsteps again. The groaning of old hinges whined and the door shut with another loud clanging sound. New guard. New shift.

Another shade of gray.

Down…Up.

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"You're not serious." His son stepped forward. He, himself, didn't know the details that caused the rift between Lee and Kara, but knew, no matter what terms they were on, she was as important to the young man as she was to him.

"I'm afraid I'm completely serious." the redhead answered. And she was. Every not in her voice official and bathed in authority.

"You don't think you're overreacting?" his graveled voice questioned, moving his gaze from Lee - the weight was beginning to shed - to the woman. No, the president. She was there as, and only as, President of the Colonies.

"No, I don't." Lee scoffed, receiving the eyes of the speaker. " Once again, your personal stake where Captain Thrace is concerned prevents you from seeing the bigger picture."

"That has nothing to do with this." he replied quickly, a little too sharp for the recently reinstated president's liking. Catching his overstep and adjusting his tone. "Madam President this…it was a fight. They happen." His quiet father half expecting a remark along the lines of 'And this _is_ Starbuck we're talking about here.' but this was too serious for the man to speak of so lightly. "A few days in hack to cool off is more than sufficient."

Her expression held fast at his words. A moment he wondered if she'd even been listening. "I see." she nodded finally, looking towards the older man. "Admiral Adama," tilting her head as she spoke his official title to him. "do you also believe this to be a 'sufficient' course of action?"

Clearing his throat, he contemplated the question she asked. The three of them sitting in his quarters had, approximately seventy six minutes ago, gathered for the briefing they now discussed. Normally the ship's Executive Officer would be present, but with Saul yet to return to active duty and the acting XO being an involved party that was not the case this time. Though Helo insisted on attending, he'd been denied. Annoyed but obedient, he hadn't pressed. Unfortunately, he'd had no luck convincing Laura there was no need for her presence either. She'd been steadfast, having a specific priority she didn't make known to him. He'd had no choice but to let the president sit in if she wished so.

He'd been less passive in his opposition of the weapon toting marines on the administrator's heels. Angrily taking it to mean there was the thought she'd attempt to harm any of them. Worse, he feared she would see it as a sign he no longer trusted her. To see him sitting there with armed protection not far off. He couldn't have that. Knowing the rocky state she'd returned in, the very last thing wanted or needed was her to feel -for lack of a better term - abandoned.

It amazed him, how easily he fell into old habits. Mainly, the urge to protect her. Even after all the time that passed without her, and yes, there had been an itch of anger and resentment after her departure. The very second he saw her bad on his ship, that familiar need returned. Her appearance shockingly ragged and waned, blood both dried and fresh colored on her pale skin. Standing - leaning really, he didn't know if she would've been on her feet if not for the recently emptied raptor at her back - on deck, isolated and solemn amidst the cheers and smiles of the crew celebrating the successful rescue. That protective instinct immediately multiplied by the thousands.

The argument for the men's exit had been short. 'Presidential Security' And that was that. They stayed.

Going against that instinct that urged to automatically agree with the simple solution his son offered, he forced himself to be the Admiral and really give it thought. He figured he must've been silent longer than she was willing to wait for an answer she probably wouldn't listen to anyway. Perhaps she knew too well the position he'd most likely take. Whatever reason didn't seem to matter. Her voice once again invaded the air.

"Gentlemen," she began, raising from the cushion of the seat to lean -arms crossed- against the arm. "were we not all in the same room just an hour ago?" No verbal answer. "And, unless I've missed something, we all have the same information on this, correct?" silence again. No answer meant no denial. She went on: "So you know, as well as I, this was hardly a simple fight. Were it not for your crew's determined intervention, Captain Thrace would have undoubtedly killed Lieutenant Agathon.

"You can't - " Lee attempted to argue, being interrupted and cut off instantly.

"An action which cannot be dismissed with a slap on the wrist." she finished her thought, silencing the major.

Adama knew what the man meant to say. She couldn't be sure the end result would've been fatal. But though, he wanted to attest to the incomplete statement, he found himself incapable. The unpleasant thought, that she was right, scratching the words from his mind. The thought grew more certain the more attention it was given. The more facts that testified on it's behalf. 'Determined' was correct. The men had to really be determined to stop her. She didn't make it easy. And in that she didn't stop until forced by the men in the same black armor he was sick of seeing today, she herself was 'determined.'

"This cannot be allowed to happen again." she spoke again. As if the statement were a fact they didn't already know for themselves. "Especially given the sensitive position of the Lt."

"Sensitive position?" the admiral repeated cynically, her own personal concern finally making itself known. "So this isn't about what was done, but who it was done to."

"Sharon." Lee caught his father's train of thought. "Because Sharon's a cylon. That's what this is about."

"Because she has critical information and we cannot afford that information to fall into the hands of the cylons. And her dying means her resurrecting on ship full of them. And that can't happen." President further explained. "Since the captain has yet to come to any sort of peace with New Caprica-"

"There are thousands of people in this fleet and on this ship who haven't." the elder Adama the one interrupting now, voicing his thought. He was standing now unable to sit any longer. She rose, too, from the arm of the chair to stand across from him. "I'm aware of this. And as it stands now, Captain Thrace is currently grounded. Chances of getting her wings back this _year_: minimal, at best." he could almost taste venom on his lips. She was easily reminding him of years ago, when she'd first taken office. How annoying and incompetent he'd found her to be. "Let me worry about my pilot."

"Your pilot, Admiral, is unstable." argued back, forgetting the existence of the room's youngest occupant. "From her personal dealings with the Cylons on New Caprica - whatever they may be - I believe her grudge to be more deeply rooted than most, if not all the others. I'm not saying those feelings aren't justified. It is also my belief that because of this, she finds the simple fact that Sharon _is_ a cylon reason enough to incite an attack." Words razor sharp as they passed her lips. "We can't trust this won't happen again, next time with a fatal outcome." Annoyed, obviously, by his refusal to agree. "I'm sorry but a more serious consequence than 'a few nights in hack' " mimicking the past spoken words of his son. "is necessary."

He found this senseless. He was sure his boiling anger would send his heart bursting right out of his chest.

"What you're talking about-" is stupid. He finished in his mind. Ridiculous. Unfair. His fists squeezed at his sides. "After months in Cylon detention, surviving Gods know what, you honestly think the best course of action is to-" lock her up. Throw out the key. Keep in a neat little box. His mind getting ahead of his mouth again. Just because she seemed to be handling it after a night in the brig didn't mean it wouldn't be complete torture after any amount of time.

"It may seem unfair. But you need to stop worrying about a single individual and consider what's best for the fleet."

"I am." he replied, voice resembling a growl. "In this case, what's best for one is what's best for the other. What's it look like - what does it say - when you willingly sacrifice a respected Colonial officer, whose valor and altruism for this very fleet is nothing short of astonishing, for the better protection of a Cylon?"

"Perhaps you should have better considered the ramifications of making a Cylon an officer of this military." she remarked. Noticeably ready to end the debate. "This decision stands. Until I'm convinced we won't need another meeting like this, this discussion is over.

Moving to exit; to leave the men in their fuming state. At the door, his voice entered the room again, speaking on its own, without his control or consent.

"Do you have any idea what it is, Madam President, to be a pilot without wings?" She shook her head.

Of course she didn't. He knew. In all his years, he knew from both sides of the glass what it meant. Nowadays, he thought it was harder to see, having been there on his own in the past and knowing what it was they were going through. It meant you were now a stagnant being. Moving without going. Living without breathing. It meant every move was fueled only by a resolve to get back a freedom taken from you. Any further punishment for a wingless pilot was only an insult to injury. Pushing you further from that freedom.

Worse than death.

_00000000000000000000_

Leaning back on the wall, stern steel against his back, he waited in the hall outside the Admiral's cabin. His mind anxious yet wary of what was happening behind the door. How much longer? Restricted by the Admiral himself, he had no clue what was said or inquired or concluded. He'd resolved to sitting with his wife a while after being denied.

That, however, did nothing to distract him as she was sleeping when he arrived. Instead, his eyes on her battered, sleeping face, only enhanced his restlessness to know. Recalling the ugly bruises and pristine bandages dressing her face, he absentmindedly lifted his hand to his own. Lightly tracing the tips of his fingers along the stitches sewn into skin above his eyes brow. A nasty bruise, swollen and noticeably shaped like the irate knuckles that gave it birth, lived on his cheek. Letting his cool touch soothe the abrasion a moment, he sighed. Letting his hand fall back to his side, he couldn't help but feel incredibly torn.

On one hand was Sharon. His wife. Sharon whom he loved so completely. Sharon the mother of his lost child. Who he'd easily die for.

On the other was Kara. His oldest friend. Kara who'd stood for him when he'd been despised for the company he kept. Kara who'd brought his ass back from Caprica. They'd been through so much together.

He wanted to protect both women so badly. Naturally, wanting the person who'd hurt his wife to pay. At the same time, knowing she was obviously in a bad, bad place, wanting to help his friend. Adama definitely made the right decision in not allowing him to attend. Who knew what a mess he'd make of things juggling the two sides.

Pushing off the cold plates behind him, he began pacing. Walking back and forth the short width of the corridor. He wished he knew what was going on; what was taking so long. He had half a mind to press his ear against the door to try and distinguish the voices that would be muffled by it's thickness. But the thought was fleeting. Partly because it was just silly, but mostly because of the men waiting patient and alert on either side of the entryway.

So he only paced. Back and forth and back and forth. Waiting and wondering. He thought about going back to sickbay to check on Sharon. But figured with the meds the doc was giving her she'd be out for a while longer.

After Gods knew how long, the familiar sounds signaling the opening of that door came to him. Planting his feet to stop his steps, he snapped his head up in it's direction. Straightening up, he first saw Roslin exit, walking past him with a nod of acknowledgement.

Not but a few minutes after, the Admiral. Stepping forward, Helo attempted to speak to him. Get some sort of answer.

"Sir, if I -" the old man quickly brushed past without so much as a glance. Nothing to even acknowledge the captain's existence. Watching his speedy disappearance down the hall, Helo's curiosity grew. Apparently the discussion's affect on the man was not a pleasant one.

"Apollo." he immediately called, witnessing the final occupant enter the narrow plated path. "What's going on?" asking quickly, grabbing the major's arm to prevent anymore avoidance. "What happened?"

Pulling away from his grip, the man - just as noticeably upset as his father had been before him- faced Helo. Eyes cold and hard. "Congratulations." sharply. "Your wife's just become the single most indispensable life on this ship."

Confused, more now than ever, he could only look at the higher ranking officer. Hoping an explanation would follow. But nothing more from the man before he was mirroring the action's of his father and angrily placing boot after boot to move down the hall.

Running his hand over his short hair, he stood alone in the same spot. Knowing the tight knit relationships between Kara and the Adama's, he could only make the assumption whatever he missed, the result was not in her favor.

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	4. Quintessence of Dust

**A/N: Just an fyi…this story isn't gonna be resolved quickly…I'm attempting to make all the people well, like people. And how easily do we resolve our own frakked up - might I add, much simpler - problems? Exactly. Hope I didn't just lose your interest.**

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Six sat, situated comfortably in her seat. Leaning back, arms intersected over her chest. One long leg crossed over the other. Gold of her hair, bronze of her skin, shirt and pants black as a starless night sky, an easy focal point against the white background. She sat without a word, eyes resting on the sight before her. Casually watching the human's frivolous struggle as if it were a scene put on simply for her entertainment. Something in which the outcome for the characters involved - life or death - was something inconsequential to be forgotten moments after it played out.

Water swayed and sloshed over the lip of the tub, splashing on to the floor as the woman struggled and battled under the surface. The Centurion, unmoving but for the steady back and forth motion of the red light that signaled it's life, remained still as stone. The troublesome efforts for naught as the obedient soldier kept firm the force that kept her head immersed.

This tactic, as enjoyable as it was to Six, was actually the suggestion of another. It'd been an honest surprise when Leoben suggested it. Her brother made no attempt to hide his ridiculous infatuation with this creature. She could only assume his visit to her cell hadn't left him too pleased for whatever reason. His…'feelings' gave him some soft spot for the human, he hadn't been thrilled with her personal touch days ago. And sadly he wasn't the only one with this sick addiction.

The eight who'd allowed her connection to a human to cause her to fall far from her people. Abandon those who'd loved her to live among those who'd destroy her as quickly as they'd blink. And, of course, a fellow six, the one called Caprica, had an unhealthy fascination of her own. Of course, her 'relationship' with Gaius Baltar had a more desirable outcome. For here they were, indirectly, due to that.

She sometimes greatly preferred the company Centurions. Much simpler. They did what they were told. Nothing more. Nothing less. They didn't develop soft spots or sympathy. If she never gave the order to release, it'd keep perfectly still long after the thrashing stopped and the last bubble rose to burst at the surface. Tempting, very tempting, as it was, she finally spoke.

"Ok." uncrossing her arms, gesturing to raise.

Right away - reliable, obedient - the metal man obliged. At the word, the woman broke through the liquid barrier. The action sending stray water flying as she was quickly pulled from the icy prison, some of it making the journey to connect with the cylon woman witting some feet ahead of her.

Long hair - grown out since settling over a year ago - darkened by absorbance, swung to slap and stick to the face and neck of it's owner. Immediately beginning those unattractive human noises. Sounds that Six herself knew she'd make if the roles were reversed. A cruse of being so biologically similar to the race she abhorred.

At Leoben's request, the insurgent's hands this time pulled and locked at her back. He'd been specific in several details of how to go about it. Everything was to be exactly as he said; exactly as it'd been when it was him in the prisoner's place.

She faced the ground, chin against her chest. Awkward sporadic movements as air labored in and out of her lungs. Tinted hair that hung heavily blocking the face from view.

"You ok, Starbuck?" false worry riding out with her words; uncrossing her legs scooting to perch herself on the edge of the chair. Waterlogged, the woman's mind strained to put together words but they couldn't form. Gasping and gagging and coughing and heaving. Her brain didn't allow for the luxury of a witty retort. The cylon leaned closer, reaching a lengthy arm through the space between. The seemingly delicate hand grasped her chin, lifting the face to better see it. Clammy, pale skin chill to the touch. Water had easily begun dripping from her head to douse the rest of the twitching body. "You don't look well."

Again the faux concern. Fingers clamped down tighter, keeping the head from lazily pulling away. Leoben assured her the symmetry wouldn't be lost on the former pilot. While that may be the case, at the moment it was doubtful she knew up from down. Except, of course, knowing up was air and down without. After all the ups and downs, in and outs, she wondered if a coherent thought was possible in that sodden head.

She had half a mind to pull back, tell the always obedient soldier to remove his clawed steel hand from the shoulder. Just to see how long she'd stay situated on her knees - obviously favoring one - before hitting the floor in a disoriented heap.

Starbuck's mind swirled, fighting for a grip on…anything. Aware of words being spoken. Of that thing touching her face. The manufactured flesh a searing iron against her own. She wanted to pull away. Head felt too heavy on her neck to hold up.

Instinct - Starbuck instinct - was to spit in the toaster's face or bite that frakking hand until she tasted blood that wasn't hers. But that wasn't what happened. Unable to even think about it, she felt the contents of her stomach rise to empty out onto the floor. The cylon quickly retracting the hand, pulling back from the edge of the chair while she threw up little more than swallowed water.

Revolting humans. Absolutely disgusted her. Taking a second to get past the display that'd barely missed her, Six rose to her feet.

Mind playing catch up, as it had finally began to thaw, she heard it's voice. Said something about 'symmetry?' Something about Leoben. She racked her brain, scanning through slow moving files for relevance. If there was any. Temperature instilled deep in her bones; blood surely frozen to the point of solidifying in her veins. She was supposed to recognize something…she did. The familiarity dancing just out of reach, like knowing you know the answer but not being able to say it. Blinking excess drops that stuck on her lashes, clearing the blur out of her vision.

The white room again, without the splotches and stains she contributed. She wondered if they cleaned it or just took her to a different one. Machines liked order. So she could see why the mess of dried blood wouldn't appeal to them much.

Focus.

It was bright. Too bright. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. For some reason, the light bulb finally clicked on. It was right. This here; a proverbial throwback to her interrogation of the cylon years ago. Of course, then she'd been on the other side of things and she could easily say she knew which side she preferred to be on. Must've irritated him more than he let show when she'd denied his 'help' when she saw him. Whenever that was. Time didn't exist in there; the cell in which she woke to him, wiping at her wounds with a damp cloth - _I apologize for Six. She can be overzealous at times. _- was without a light of it's own. Corridor just beyond the barred barrier aglow with the same dim light at all times. Rays that seeped past the door, spreading a few feet along the floor, the only illumination.

The shadows at the far side of the small room, where she'd pulled herself to sit against the wall, a shade above pitch. His voice cutting through it seeming disembodied - _I mean only to end the suffering you prolong. _- haunted from the surrounding dark. Smacking away his hand, lack of restraints a small blessing, and spitting in his face, she exercised the ghost from the room. In return, he gave her this grand homage.

'Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.' she meant to say it. Pride demands that you stay the same no matter what they do. In her case, foul-mouthed, sarcastic smartass. Show them they have not and will not break you. Pride demanded, and she did all she could to oblige. What actually came out sounded nothing like that. Wasn't even words, some noise that rolled out from her burning chest. Damn.

"He told us everything that happened." The voice of the Six, contrary to her own, flawlessly spoke seamless words without falter. "Everything you did."

Everything she did. She didn't remember everything she did. Obviously she recalled most of it, the experience in general. But clearly, she remembered him. Everything he said. Each and every word that came from his mouth.

The words that echoed and bounced in Kara's head while she lay unable to sleep. The voice resounding in her mind, lapping with the never forgotten sound of her mother's. Spinning and dancing together until the two voices were an indistinguishable mesh. Growing louder and louder in her skull, sometimes she was sure those sleeping around her would be stirred by it. The vibrations of the volume surging through her bones to make every invisible scar of her skeleton ache and throb.

"You're all so blinded by your self-righteous, banal little existence, none of you see the truth." speaking in the same quiet tone, almost intimate. Like the soft spoken secrets exchanged by lovers in the stillness of quiet air. "That it's you…your entire race, that are the monsters you claim us to be."

Right. The cylons were saints. Angels that nuked planets, killing millions on millions on millions. Chasing the handful left across every inch of space.

Finally getting her voice to work, forcing it to sound without shiver. Four necessary words:

"I'm gonna kill you." the promise, dripping in the pure disdain, growled and dangerously sincere. She swore to the Gods if she only killed one more of the frakkers in her life, if she only got to one more before they finally got down to it and killed her, it'd be this one. And she'd make it last. Something slow that it'd remember before any of the other deaths it'd been through.

"I'm curious," it started, ignoring the threat as if it'd never been spoken. Obviously doubtful of her capability to follow through. Even if she believed her, what was there to fear? As far as cylons were concerned it was 'Kill me today, I'll see you tomorrow'. "all this loyalty; this devotion to secrecy and silence." The standing blonde turned the chair, bringing it closer. Legs spread to do so, she sat facing the back, arms resting atop it. "Enduring anything and everything rather than spill the tiniest detail. What's it all for?"

The cylon honestly curious about it. The reasoning for it. She knew humans to put personal self-preservation above all things. To protect oneself no matter the cost.

Say something - a lie even - for the chance to lighten the punishment even the slightest bit. Not that Six, herself, would ease up anyway no matter what this one said.

"To stick it to the big, bad cylons? Just counting the days, waiting for your dreams to come true and your beloved Galactica comes back for you?" she speculated. "They won't. A handful of people who think they're making a difference? They're not."

The unofficially reinstated soldier kept her face stone. Silence at the questions. Offering no insight whatsoever to the interrogator. Just a defiant glare.

"What is it?" looking inquisitively into the angry green eyes. "What do you think your protecting? Friends? Ideas?" raising one perfectly arched eyebrow, "That attractive husband of yours?"

And there it was. The smallest - miniscule really - change in the expression. She had her attention. Documents and records of every kind were stashed and filed on the grounded Colonial One. If anything was officially recorded they all now knew about.

"Whatever you're trying to do, it's not going to work. And whatever you think you know. You don't." spitting fire in her low voice. This thing wasn't allowed to talk about him.

"I know trying to protect a dead man is as pointless as it gets." The woman's reaction, to say the least, was unexpected. Simply because, there was none. No reaction. She looked as if she'd just been told the time or what was for dinner. "You don't care? What a loving wife, to not even blink at the news of being widowed."

"I've heard this song before." informing nonchalantly. "One of your little friends on Caprica sang it to me."

What an enormous relief it'd been to see him alive. Like seeing Lee's cocky face back on deck after being told he'd been killed. And he wasn't just alive, charging at the head of the group towards that damn building; that farm. She'd been told then that he'd died and she believed it. She'd cried like she hadn't in a long time.

Six threw her hands in the air in mock defeat.

"Guess you've got a point there." replied the false woman. "I could easily be lying. Maybe he's alive and well and still fighting the good fight with the rest of your coveted insurgency. But maybe I'm not. Maybe he went looking for you, armed and dangerous. Maybe while searching for his lost, loving wife, we found him instead. And he was screaming at us when we marched right past his cell." She let the idea hang in the air a moment before: "Recognize any voices?"

She paused now, to watch her mentally trace back through the day. Bagged and dragged out of the cell and down the hall. Passing the other identical rooms; some occupied, some vacant. As always when the cylon moved by ones being used; screams and cries and demands and pleas directed at her. It was always louder when taking someone with away with them.

Of course, sight unavailable thanks due to the black sack shoved over her head, she had only her ears to rely on. But too many voices, too loud, along with the whirs and grinds of Centurion gears moving her down the walk. All the noises and sounds overlapped one another, she couldn't pick one out of the crowd. Had he been one of them?

"Or maybe," quieter. Almost a challenge just to hear it. "maybe he tried coming right up to the front door, guns blazing, and there was no choice but to fire round after round after round into that very nice body."

Liar.

Games and lies.

"What do you say? Believe me now, Captain Starbuck, sir?" again, mocking what she'd earned. "Or do you need to see a corpse first?"

"You're lying." A bluff. Like a card game. Six was bluffing and wanted her to fold. She obviously didn't know how Starbuck played cards. All in, no folds. "It's just another one of you trying to frak with my head." Lords, "I don't buy.' please.

Some time later, swimming in the gray area between consciousness, she was aware of moving. Being moved. Of the floor sliding under her heels. The scratching material of the same black cloth laying over her face. The sounds; voices in her ears.

She made a point, even in her incoherent state, to try singling one out from the crowd. Still didn't work. She thought maybe she could call for him once they'd left. But that couldn't happen. Just because they weren't where she could see, didn't mean they still wouldn't be there. She couldn't show even the slightest chink in her armor. The numbers would dwindle soon enough. Voices would grow quieter. People would stop coming back after being taken away. Until she died or escaped, she could only endure. It was the only choice any of them had.

They stopped moving and she felt the metal man release her and the ground met her back. Someone - something - pulled the bag from her head. The cranking and scraping of the iron door sliding shut. The voices were farther away now that she was back in her designated quarters.

She wondered how long it'd be before she joined them. Before she was just another voice screaming in the dark.

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	5. In Which I Am Dying

**A/N: this chap took (obviously) a little time to write. I kept editing and changing and rewriting until I was satisfied with it. Had to make sure it went where I wanted it to go. It's sort of a long one…**

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He was a mousy little man.

Long, thin arms branched out from sharp shoulders. Though he looked a few years younger than she, his dark hair had already begun the process of thinning away. Except for his eyebrows; thick enough to be mistaken for two fat, furry caterpillars resting lazily atop the slim silver frame of his glasses. Though his face shaped with points and angles, soft brown eyes lived behind the lenses, betraying the otherwise hard appearance.

His hands fidgeted. Clicking the pen over and over. Nails chewed down as far as possible without biting the fingers themselves. A ring, simple, silver band, circled the middle finger of his left hand; a wedding ring. Resting loosely at the knuckle - too big for him. It wasn't made for him. Father's most likely. She'd guess he was a shrink, too. Died and now his son wore his ring. She'd bet on it.

All these things she observed, noted and filed away as she sat silently across from this man. Noticing, too, the shining layer of perspiration coating his skin. Obviously uncomfortable in the quiet room.

The room, Galactica's interrogation room - where else would they do this, right?- and the man, some psychiatrist. Brought here to pick her brain for all the dark, nasty bits and pull them out and away. Looking at him, he seemed too soft for the job. Too…susceptible to listen to the horrid thoughts, confessions, and experiences of other people. He didn't appear all that comfortable in his own skin, how could he manage to try on someone else's for however long he walked around in there. Definitely nervous now. Before her. In the presence of armed men.

This was not a man meant for war. This wasn't someone hard enough for times like these. When bullets fly there were generally two people. The guy who hid, waiting for it to end. And the guy who ended it, even if it mean it only ended for him.

Raising his ringed hand to adjust the glasses, his throat rumbled with a nervous clearing before stuttering out his words.

"So," clearing his throat again. Speaking for the first time since she'd entered; escorted and accessorized appropriately, of course. He hesitantly placed the pen down. Without it, flattened his palm against it, drumming his fingers once. Stopping to scratch at his gleaming forehead. He needed to do something with his hands, he couldn't seem to keep them still for more than a second. "Miss- er - Captain, sorry." Glancing down at the papers before him. Captain Thrace."

Not moving a muscle, she remained wordless. Expressionless. Intimidating the squirming man before her with her stare. He was no doubt aware of the fact that he was only just out of reach. It wouldn't take much to get to him if she wanted. This was probably in the front of his mind as he sat fearfully behind his glasses and folders and recorder.

"I'm Edwin Farrow. Dr. Farrow. You can call me Ed or-or Eddie if you prefer."

The stammered voice filtered through the speaker to invade the air on the opposite side of the glass. The Admiral stood, arms crossed, looking unimpressed at the scene. President of the fallen colonies at his left.

"Where'd you find this guy?

"Dr. Farrow is highly qualified."

"He's a joke." voicing his opinion. "A blubbering imbecile."

"He also happens to be one of two psychiatrists left in the fleet." she added, using the important detail to defend the awkward doctor before them.

Returning attention to the display across the clear barrier. Listening to a moment more of his insecure rambling; he may be qualified to assess and assist the cushioned problems of the plush lives lived by the high ups back on Caprica, but for something real…for this, from what he was seeing, he couldn't be more out of his league.

"And the second?" he inquired without looking away.

"Dr. Taylor," Roslin answered. "his time on New Caprica led him to, for the time being, become his own patient."

Perfect. Why wouldn't that happen? His inner voice spoke sarcastically of the situation. He did not voice aloud the more colorful opinions he had of this young doctor. He gave his focus, this time to the woman. Yet to say a word. Leaving him to - in the same uneasy voice - fill the silence.

His words falling quickly from his lips, were now explaining the situation to her. As if she didn't know herself what was happening or why he was there. Adama had, at first, seen a possible ray of light in this. He'd been certain Laura would witness that, yes, there was work to be done and steps to take, but it was far from hopeless. No need to fear for the life of Sharon Agathon or anyone else as far as Kara was concerned.

But now…there was no way she would take this man seriously. Let alone open her mouth about what happened in the gym or on New Caprica. Listening to him, he was actually reminded of Baltar. Before the sham of a presidency, Baltar spoke the same way to him. Almost exactly that way. Fearful. Uncertain.

Afraid each word would be the one he shouldn't have said. Though there were moments in the fear driven drivels, of total confidence. If this man had those, they were yet to occur. Roslin couldn't honestly think of developing any sort of decision or opinion based on what this guy was able to come up with. He hadn't even begun to say anything of importance. 'So, you're from Caprica? Me too…' he was blabbering on.

"This is ridiculous." he spat out, keeping his irritation evident but still in check. She seemed to agree, instructing a standing marine to have Farrow step out for a "quick word."

"She knows we're here." Adama informed, catching what she was attempting to do. "Any attempts at discretion are only an insult to her intelligence."

She didn't reply. The marine - Vickers - appeared, opening the door, gesturing for the doctor to follow. Farrow was obviously more than happy to oblige. Practically leaping from the chair at the invitation to exit. With his departure, Adama watched her. Sitting, unmoving in her supervised solitude. Exactly as she'd been while Farrow occupied the other chair, except now she stared at empty space rather than a clearly intimidated man. He squinted his eyes, as if looking harder would make her thoughts visible in the air around her. Give him some insight as to what was going on in

"Thank you. " the now familiar voice spoke as Vickers held open the door for his entrance.

"Dr. Farrow." Roslin greeted with a nod of her head, Adama was less welcoming to the man. Glaring instead of speaking.

"Madam President." he returned. "Admiral."

"Dr. Farrow, Admiral Adama and myself are grateful you've taken the time to be here today." Roslin began.

"Oh, well, that's-"

"Will you be getting to the point soon, Doctor?" Adama interrupted spitefully.

The lean man looked taken back. Not expecting the abrupt attack right after the president's kind words.

"Well, I," clearing his throat again, shoving his hands in his pockets. "th-the subject-"

"Captain Thrace." he corrected harshly.

"Right. Right. Captain Thrace is obviously uncooperative in-in my efforts to begin." The similarities between this man's communication techniques and the former president's were annoying in their clarity.

"It's my understanding the captain hasn't made a habit of conversing much with anyone." she informed the man. "Aside from the debriefing. Which called on her officially. Rank and protocol come into play." Roslin mused. "The officers on this ship are soldiers first before anything else. It may be the only way to get response is to use that."

"She spoke to me." Adama recalled aloud, not realizing that it actually was spoken until he saw the two pairs of eyes turn to him. He continued. "Off record, unofficial. She spoke to me."

"She did?" Farrow asked, as if he would lie about something like that. He remained quiet a second, as if going over the information in his head for something that might be there for him. "Would you mind, Admiral, stepping in, possibly, for a few minutes? I'd like to, um, observe how - if at all- she reacts to you." he suggested. "If you don't object, Madam President."

Adama felt another spike of irritation, military matters were his decision. Whether or not he went in there had nothing to do with her. Before any answers or replies were given - he was going to say yes despite whatever Roslin's answer would be - the square speaker gave way to the voice that hadn't yet existed.

"I want to speak to the XO." just loud enough to know it'd be heard clearly over any conversation they'd be having. She didn't even bother to look over. Just said the words.

"What?" Farrow asked, more from confusion than not hearing.

"She wishes to speak to the XO." Roslin repeated the message.

"Right. The…what's that?"

Adama sighed. "Executive Officer."

"Oh. Well then, would we have the um…officer come here?" he asked.

It was a short time later, not short enough as far as Adama was concerned, Vicker's returned with acting XO, Captain Agathon. Even if Kara's future wasn't - for lack of a better phrase - on the line here, being near this Farrow guy for more than a second was enough to make him go crazy. Helo's presence gave Adama a need to object. He assumed she had meant Saul, but refrained from voicing this. It wasn't a secret that Helo was the XO for now and the foreseeable future. He and Kara had been friends for some time, so there was a great chance she had meant him when she made her request. Maybe she felt remorse for the minor injuries dressing his face.

The man entered the room, telling the guards they could step out, a specific request he'd made when they suggested he speak with her. With them gone, he moved to the empty seat.

"Hey." he greeted kindly. "They said you asked for me. Not looking to finish the job are you?" He ran a hand over his bruised jaw as he made the small joke.

Tilting her head slightly, getting a better look at the healing wounds. She really hadn't meant to hurt him. She almost felt the apology form on her lips, ready and prepared to come out. Instead:

"What are you doing here?" obviously not the welcome he was hoping for.

"I was told you asked to see me." he said again, leaning forward, crossing arms on the table.

"They told you wrong." she replied. "I asked for the XO."

He let out a small chuckle. "Kara, I am the XO."

"The real one." she explained, proving Adama's theory to be true.

"Well, _I'm_ glad they got me. I've wanted to talk to you for a few days now." he told her. A few days translating into since his face became her punching bag. "About what happened…I know you didn't mean it." he thought he saw her eyes soften a bit at the statement, he continued. "It's ok." he told her quietly. "It is, really. Water under the bridge; gone and forgotten. No worries."

She wanted to thank him. Could taste the words in her mouth and feel their weight on her tongue. She set her cuffed hands on the table - yep, accessories one couldn't be without when considered a danger to everyone around her - and leaned forward as well. The words died on her lips; turning to ash to blow away as if they'd never existed.

She nodded. That'd have to be enough. That'd have to convey the message of the deceased words. It seemed to work, Helo returned with a grin she'd all but forgotten. Usually partnered with the pale stick of a sucker sticking out of his mouth.

How long ago was it? Sitting around the card table. Drinks and cigars. Laughter and lollipops. How long ago?

"Right." he said along with that grin. "See we're all moving on. Barely a scratch anyway. You know I was only humoring you, right? This," indicating his face. "is all for show." continuing the lighthearted topic. "And I know what Cottle said, but I'm pretty sure Sharon's milking it for the R and R."

Her eyes darkened and he felt the air shift, telling him the error of mentioning his wife's name.

"Listen, I'm sorry ok?" he started in all seriousness, joking was done for the moment. "You probably don't care or want to hear about her. But Sharon -"

"Eight." she interrupted. "It's an Eight. One of many."

"That not true." he defended, pausing a moment. "O-Ok. Maybe technically it is true. But she's different from the others. You know this."

"I know it's a Cylon." she retorted. "That's all that matters."

"Stop." he demanded. "Look, what you went through…it sucks, alright. And I am sorry. Gods I'm sorry."

"I don't need you to be sorry." she argued. "Don't need it and don't want it."

Voices raising in volume and intensity, the mesh of wire covering the speakers end doing nothing to dilute either. Three observers watching intently. At first the exchange, albeit one sided, had been amicable. But the flipside of the pair being friends for as long as they'd been was that neither really backed down from the other.

"Perhaps we should take a break." Roslin suggested, obviously uneasy about the heated situation unfolding.

"No. No." Farrow objected. "This, give it a minute, this could be a good thing. She is responding."

"That's my concern." she spoke the thought somewhat quietly, as if she were merely thinking it aloud, turning back to the glass. Adama said nothing.

"That's too bad. Because I am." he spat. "Gods, Starbuck…" looking down at his hands a quick moment before looking back to her. Like a kid with the answers to a test written on his palm. "I don't know what happened to you on that damn rock" his voice lost it's edge. "or what those frakkers put you through. Whatever it was you didn't deserve it. And, want it or not, I am sorry it happened and even sorrier I wasn't there with you."

No you're not. She thought to say. He shouldn't be sorry he wasn't there. He should be thanking the Gods every second of every day he had that he chose to stay while she chose to go. He must've learned his lesson by then; last time he went down to a habitable planet he was left there for months on his own; for the most part anyway.

"Sharon is my wife." he started again. "You're my best friend. I can't choose between you. So don't ask me to."

"Choice is already made Helo." she informed him. Voice almost eerie in it's sudden calm. "As far as I'm concerned you're no different from all those fraks who collaborated with the toasters."

"You don't mean that." he answered, not believing her words. "As much as you didn't deserve what happened to you, Sharon doesn't deserve -"

"I deserve justice!" she shouted angrily. "Vindication. Everyone who was there deserves it."

"You're right. But you're not after vindication, you're after revenge. Misguided revenge." he noted. "And revenge is not justice."

"And a machine is not a person." she quickly shot back. "Not a person. Not a woman and not a wife. It's a thing, Helo. A thing."

He slammed his palm on the flat of the table with a loud bang. Leaning further over the short table, sitting on the edge of his chair.

"Stop it!" he demanded. "Just stop. Sharon Agathon is my wife! She's helped you and me and everyone else on several occasions."

"To keep herself alive. Because downloading's a bitch and she knows as long as she helps, she keeps her cozy life on this ship and in your bed." he flinched as if she'd cut him. "You're upset because you think I could've killed her, you're wrong. Because I could kill her again and again and again and again and it wouldn't mean anything! Nothing! All the toaster's we've taken out, you think we've even made a dent? Death is nothing to them. It's a joke! The biggest joke. So congratulations, Helo, you never have to worry about being a widower. The Mrs. can go get herself blown out of the sky and still be home in time for supper. I guess you won the lottery with that, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry about Anders, but that wasn't this Sharon."

Now she was the one slamming her hand against the table, using the loud sound to end his sentence. "Don't. You don't get to say his name." she told him. "You don't get to talk about him one minute and frak your toaster the next. It doesn't work that way."

"She was in on the rescue from New Caprica." he defended. "She's one of the reasons you're here right now." he jabbed his finger into the table for emphasis. "And if Anders _were_ here -"

Each of the spectators were taken by surprise, watching hell break loose a few feet away from them in about the time it took to blink. Adama was already moving before Roslin was shouting orders. "Get in there! Go! Now!" she hollered to the Marines.

With the quickest action she'd made since she'd returned, she lunged forward. Propelling herself out of the chair to the other side of the short table. Using her weight and momentum to knock his chair - and him with it - backward. Landing on top, straddling his waist, her hands acted on their own, finding the his warm neck.

Again, taken by surprise, the back of his head finding the floor caused the daze where the only thought he could clearly put together was how bad his luck had been lately. That was when the door opened. The old man entering first, heading the charge. He made sure to keep a few steps ahead of the others, wishing to avoid any forceful measures that weren't necessary. They were well trained, but at times of chaos, he didn't always completely trust them to keep from acting too harsh, too quick.

"Starbuck, let go!" he ordered, coming to her back. Clasping his hands under her shoulders to pull her off. Calling on all the strength his aged body had, "Let him go!"

Feeling the relief on his muscles, he knew she was rising. Noticeable more due to her choice than his actions. The thought confirmed when the body twisted around - easily exiting his grip - he was next aware of stumbling back. Stinging cheek an afterthought.

On her feet again, it suddenly felt slow; the room, the people, the world around her. In the frozen seconds her brain was a firestorm of thought. Clarity and realization eluding the fogged jumble of her skull. Time sped up again, back to regularity; maybe even faster.

A force hitting her back. A brief moment of falling. The floor. Weight of a grown man keeping her there. Screaming. Everyone was screaming and shouting. So loud in the small space. Was her voice one of them? It could be, she couldn't be sure through the gray cloud.

Kara was facedown, Vicker's knee in her back, palm firm on the back of her skull, spitting angry words -_Big frakking mistake!_ - at her. Helo hollering in a hoarse voice -_Easy. Hey! Take it easy! _- to the dark uniformed Sergeant. The younger Marine - couldn't recall his name - was in his face asking if he was alright. So much all at once, he did his best to register it all, including the throbbing spot that shocked him more than physically hurt.

She was screaming unintelligible words, fighting beneath the larger man's weight..

After regaining some sort of composure, he knew he needed to get the situation calmed and under control. Ignoring the man questioning him, he moved towards the other voicing his demand as he did, ordering him to step away. Not only did he not instantly obey, he actually gave his own order; telling the admiral to step back. Adama ignored it; actually, not ignored so much as didn't really hear it in the first place. He was having trouble hearing anything other than her.

The sound triggering a burst of rage, he grabbed the black collar and forced him to move. "That's an order!" he half shouted, half growled.

A second or two after Vicker's was forcibly removed, the sound stopped. The room became silent except for the sounds of the occupants breathing and the thunder of his own heart. Calming himself then squatting down - his old knees weren't what they used to be - he only looked for the moment. Still facing the ground, pushing heavy breaths into the floor, he could see the tension poised in each inch of her muscled form.

His hand hovered a moment in the air; hesitating before carefully laying it gently -comfort was his intention - on the space between her shoulder blades. Testing the waters, he pulled back feeling the jerked response under the touch.

Resting his elbows on his bent knees, he ran a hand over his jaw and mouth, muffling the sigh that escaped. He'd wait, let her calm down. Turning his head, he wasn't surprised to see Roslin standing in the doorway.

Seeing the sympathy in her expression he turned away again. Surprising himself with the sharp stings born in his eyes.

Strange world; where wet drops burned like fire.

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**A/n: wow that really was long. Once I got started I lost control so…there it is. Review pretty please!**


	6. You, The Victim of Yourself

**A/N: My apologies for my absence. Things have been well on the hectic side for a while I haven't been able to sit down and do this. Fair warning of sorts, I was not in the brightest place when I wrote this so…it goes without saying things are yet to lighten. Sorry if you're getting sick of the melancholy and morose but I warned you this wouldn't me a 30 minute after school special where seemingly serious problems are solved after the second commercial break. Onward…**

**p.s. this is definitely the shortest one so far, but after I was out of my own personal maelstrom, I read this and didn't want to ruin it by adding after the mood had changed…get what I mean? maybe?**

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Pulling at the chain. Seven round steel pieces linked together between bracelets. One circling the same raw skin it always did; at the other end, the identical twin locked around one of many steel bars. Metal and blood was all life was anymore. Shouting a cruse, she continued to pull at the unwavering tether.

Seething like a rabid animal, the cursing and frantic attempt only succeeded in amusing the observer with every futile tug and twang that occurred. On the floor, she maneuvered her body to face the door, bracing her feet against it. Pushing, determined to snap her wrist if she had to. Sparing a glance back over her shoulder, at the other end of the room.

Somewhere - what had to be at least a few days ago, Gods knew it easily could be more - a switch had been flipped. The room filled with light, brighter than she remembered any light could ever be. That replaced the visits. The newest tactic, to leave her alone. Blinded by the sudden flood of fierce luminescence. It seemed it was the classic sleep deprivation tactic known to be often used for prisoner's of war. But of course, these clinking clanging bastards had more up their sleeves then just that. They waited until her eyes were better adjusted. They wanted her to see.

"Gods damn it." focusing back on her failing mission. Pulling and pulling.

The voice wheezed, somehow forming her name. She looked back again, on the far side - it was a lot smaller in the light. Closer than he'd been at first. Attempts to move, closer to her if only by inches, lasting only so long. The efforts falling painfully short; he lay just feet out of reach, life fading with each scarlet drop.

"Need some help?" inhumanly calm from beyond the bars.

Accented voice - why add that little detail to the programming? What good did that do? - of a creature they'd actually allowed to freely roam Galactica. Not just that, but had given fairly wide access to. With her little camera report. Taking her little recordings and findings back to her big metal family.

This was the thing that spoke to her now. The thing that did this; stuck her there like a dog on a leash. To wait for her to come back. To toss him effortlessly to the floor and just as easily squeeze the trigger.

"Just say so." it spoke again, casually passing the damn key between hands. Squatting down in front of her. Acting like some grade school teacher speaking to a struggling student. "If you need my help, ask and I'll help you." Might as well be asking for a literal pound of flesh. Suggesting Starbuck would ask the toaster for help.

Hell no.

She'd prefer to rip her hand right off her arm. As depleted as she was - and she felt all the ways that was true - it may not take too much to do just that. His fading voice again, nearly drowned out by the gurgling of flooding lungs. Saying meekly: Kara.

And she panicked. Kara panicked. She panicked overpowering the ever present Starbuck. Starbuck who could withstand any pain and stress and anything else the war -and world- brought on with a steely gaze and a snide remark.

But the name struggling past his lips wasn't that of the fearless soldier. It was the Viper jock daredevil. It was the woman; his wife.

"Not much longer now." it said to her.

"Shut up." clenched teeth.

"Just say it."

Kara. Starbuck.

Starbuck. Kara.

Inner fight while the physical fight to somehow free herself continued.

"He's dying, you know."

Help him. Shut up.

Kara. Starbuck.

"You could be at his side for his last moments."

Ask for help. Keep your mouth shut.

Kara. Starbuck.

"You could give him that."

Turning again. A million miles away in the same room.

"Swallow your pride."

On his back, his hands twitched as if grabbing something. She knew it. It'd only be a few minutes if even that. The voice of the cylon screaming in her ear. Starbuck screaming in the other. Starbuck demanding the return of control.

"Ok!" she finally shouted, raising her voice above the screaming in her skull.

"Ok what?"

"I-" cutting herself off, letting her head hang a moment to force down the sob. The disgust from the pilot. Forcing out the words: "I need…help." Words physically paining her. She was certain she would throw up.

"Say please."

"Frak you!" clang of the chain reverberated, a burst of the prideful alter.

"Your choice." it rose to leave.

A gasp from behind her, the voice returned once it was no more than a step away.

"Please." she really was nauseous. "Please, ok?"

It came back, pulling the restricted hand towards her through the open space. Gentle enough to not rip her arm out of the socket in the process. How kind.

"There's a good girl." releasing it.

Good girl. Good dog. Do what you're told. Only ever what you're told.

There was nothing that could be done for him. Not by her, especially not there. But damn it all if Kara didn't see that. Ignoring the protest of logic - logic driven by pride; adamantly opposed to the notion - the woman beat the soldier. Claiming ignorance that there was no coming back for him. There were few coming back's from a shot in the chest. Some were luckier than most.

Scrambling over. Kneeling in the pool of life swelling around him. Her hands shook, so much of it the red appeared black. Gone. Not more than a few seconds gone, warmth still radiating on his skin. Even now, with a heart no longer pumping, the blood still crept out slowly.

They chose now to shut off the lights.


	7. Prayer for the Refugee

**A/N: Don't hate me. **I seriously tried to have an update before I moved, but in the rush all I produced was crap upon crap which beget crap and more crap. So I just let it stay until I finally found myself all cozied up in whatever little place I go when this stuff comes to me. And of course after that, it was all a matter of when I would be getting connected to the big world wide web again. But as everything has finally fallen into place as far as that's concerned I can happily put this here and hope for the best responses. **FYI: This could get a bit confusing I guess, I'm hoping you can follow.**

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Moving quickly, keeping prefect pace with the other man, possibly even setting that pace, he traveled. Letting the walls pass by, the last bits of his disturbed slumber vanishing from his body. The man he followed - moved alongside, walked past, lead on - he recognized as Jaxx. A marine a few years older than himself. He'd pounded on the hatch, startling awake both the major and his wife. Drawing him from bed with his urgency.

"When did it start?" the Major inquired as he lead the path to the familiar destination.

"Only a few minutes ago." Jaxx answered, finding he was traveling behind the Admiral's son and picking up his pace.

"What happened?" as they reached the entrance.

"Nothing, sir." answering quickly, following through. "Nothing happened that I saw.. She just started."

Just started; the answer. According to him, it just started. This guy, whose job was to watch and keep guard for a only a few hours at a time, didn't see anything at all. Nothing that could have possibly set this off. No…it just started. She just started.

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Back and forth. Slapping her palms against the steel. Keeping tally in her head with each one she hit. How many bars.

One. Two. Three. Four….

How thick were the walls? Scratching the back of her head, the thought lingering beneath the skin and bone. How thick were the walls?

Ask the question get the answer. She'd have to get the answer for herself. Have to get herself through and out. Away. Continuing her straight line. No turning to start back this time, she went forward, right up to the wall. Flat palms against the cool steel staring at it. Up and down, like it was a problem in need of solving. There was a secret written on it for her to read. Written in another language she couldn't decipher. So she stared, intently. Sizing it up.

Patting the wall with her open hand. How thick were the walls? What would it take to get out?

She thought she heard the door. Someone, something coming her way. Time for another visit. What would it be this time? She had to wonder what, now, would be done under the pathetic guise of interrogation. The sound, the visitors had her attention. Had her looking back over her shoulder, breathing heavy, anticipating the attack. In a few seconds the door would open and they'd come in.

One of them. The blonde, the reporter, the pilot. Six. Three. Eight.

They came with fists and cuffs and all sorts of new toys and fun ideas. They came most often. Other than Leoben. No, when he came it was different. He came with food and water and words. Offering release, care, promises of peace and clarity. She preferred the fists. Either way they came. They plotted and toyed and tortured.

Turning back around, pounding and smacking and beating on the wall. The bruises on her knuckles had begun to fade from the last encounter with the cylon's face. Her throat felt sore and she wondered if she was screaming again. It seemed unimaginable that she would sometimes hear the screams and realize only moments later they came from her. Throwing her fists into the metal again and again.

"Open the door." he demanded of the man.

Though he instantly moved to do as he was told, the major felt it wasn't fast enough. Shouting again at him the same command. Eyes not leaving her as she broke away from present reality before his very person. She was going to break her own hands if she kept it up and she didn't seem to notice or care. He slipped by the Marine before he'd even finished opening the door all the way.

"Kara." coming quickly behind her. "Kara. Kara, stop."

Locking his arms around her, stopping her one sided battle. Gripping as tightly as he could manage, knowing her response wouldn't be an easy one. So he'd braced himself at her back and held on for the struggle that followed. Again he told her stop, fighting to keep his hold, finding it harder to do so with each passing second.

"Sir?" Jaxx was looking cautiously at the situation like he might approach to lend his own hand.

"Just-" Lee began, words cutting themselves off as his thoughts ran wild. "Get my father." he finally managed.

"He's not in his quarter's sir." he replied immediately. "Went there before yours."

"Well, find him!" he shouted angrily, shooting a glare his way. "Send a frakking message over fleet wireless for all I care just find him! Now!"

With the expected 'yes sir' he was off and Lee was happier for it. He'd like as little eyes and ears in this as possible. Discretion didn't seem to come into play where personal happening were concerned on this ship and he didn't need a thousand whispers about 'starbuck's breakdown' ringing in every passageway.

He must've allowed too much attention to the other man as she managed to get an arm free enough to smash her elbow backwards into his face. The shock of it, more than the pain, loosened his grip and she instantly slipped out. Regaining his composure, he was expecting her to go on the offensive and attack him as she'd done the wall. Instead, to his surprise, she backed away from him like he was contagious. Moving fast enough to hit her back against the wall, she crouched down, holding her head in her hands.

Again he said her name as if it were the only word he knew.

She shoved the voice out of her head. Forced her ears to be deaf to it. Forced her own voice to become mute. She learned a long, long time ago screaming was pointless where pain was concerned. Whenever, whatever the situation, screaming showed weakness. Showed the pain. Showed vulnerability. It only ever encouraged tormentors, whoever they were. Human, Cylon, whatever.

IF it hurt, deal with it. Hold it in, push it away to the furthest, darkest corner of the mind and lock it up. Keep it there until you're alone and there's no witness to your weakness. Than you can feel it. Feel every cut, scrape, bruise, whatever. She'd engraved this routine in every bone of her body over a decade ago.

So she didn't scream here. Not when they were here.

She heard the crack before she felt it's sting. Breath hitching each time. Muscles tensing into rock. But she managed not to scream. Locking it away - every lash that sliced her skin and burned like a thousand flames - in that deep, dark closet until it was safe to bring it into the light.

"Kara." trying to calm her; reach her wherever she was. "It's-It's me. It's Lee."

Seemingly deaf to his words, he knelt near her retreated form. Watching her, behaving as thought she were being struck repeatedly. Fair hair, absorbing the red where her bloodied hands held her head. He didn't know what the frak to do here. He heard the chime of the intercom precede the message. The voice announcing to the ship that Admiral Adama was needed right there in that spot he stood. So much for discretion, but he had told him he didn't care how he got him there. And that was sure to get him there.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help? He was clueless as a rook.

This situation, this string of moments right here, scared his blood solid. Watching the fearless, bedeviled Kara Thrace cover away from the attack of an invisible enemy. Kneeling next to her, eyeing her hand. Clamped down on her skull, at the end of her extravagantly tattooed arm. It looked to be swelling right before him. Probably broken as was his concern.

He reached again for her; slower this time. Not in the rushed raid of the first approach in the cell. Again she fought away from the contact. And again, persisted. Having already cornered herself and enduring -mentally at least - an attack on her person, this struggle was hardly half of the first.

He was able to bring her against him, holding her still resistant body in the unstable embrace.

"It's ok." he spoke to her, not knowing what else to say or do. "You're- You're ok." he repeated this a couple more times.

"Lee?" her voice catching him off guard, drawing a relieved breath from his chest.

"Yeah." he answered, a smile actually playing at his mouth, hearing her return to him. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, it's me."

He half expected her to pull away and out from his touch. Instead she remained, silent save for the quivering breaths she'd yet to regulate. Then finally:

"They're not done, Lee." whispered into the room. "They're not done with me."

Running a hand softly up and down her spine, his chin resting atop her head. He listened to her quiet words that screamed desperation and terror, glancing towards the cell's barrier. Catching his father's gaze, he let out a sigh. The eyes he looked into surely the physical display of his own inner anguish at that very moment with her in his arms.

The words, echoing in the same tone, bounced around the room and hovered in the air. He knew his father had heard them and had the same thoughts as himself. Fearing - possibly knowing - they were true. She was right.

They weren't done.


	8. The Sufferer and The Witness

**_a/n:_** And she makes her triumphant return! My apologies for the vast break in between. Just think of it as a lesser version of the oh-so painful space between may and January in which we are all suffering.

This one really, really got away from me. Many pages in my notebook were occupied; I haven't decided yet whether or not to break it into two. Obviously I'll have decided by the time you read this.

_0000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

Quiet.

That was the first thing she noticed. The eerie silence where once was the harshest racket. The lack of sound, an ode to those who once conducted the noise. She'd only been once to hear it - not making habit of frequenting the dreadful place - but that one time was well enough to carve it into her memory.

But now she returned….nothing. Few sounds, which could scarcely even be called so, were born into the air as she moved. Pausing after a short while, looking at the unsettling story before her. Mouth slack, she found thought slow to form, words unable to describe exactly what she felt at the moment.

"Not very pretty is it?" the voice spoke to her. "But what were you expecting …really?"

She didn't answer. Not disrupting the tribute that hung in the silence. To her side, her peripheral vision found him there; leaning against the barrier, gazing sideways where her own eyes were glued. Nonchalantly glancing at the same thing that so obviously disturbed her. "Oh, don't be so upset darling. After all, it's only a human. What does it really matter to you?"

"It's a life." she finally addressed him, disgusted by his theory

"And you sympathize, do you?" he asked turning to her now. "You're outraged by the disregard for that life? The hideously unethical treatment." stepping slowly, with his arrogant swagger, around to her other side. "If you hadn't known what it was like, or had at least some idea, you wouldn't have brought your little gift, now would you?"

Nodding his head at her as he mentioned it. Looking at him, sparing him the annoyed glance of someone who'd been caught in a point. Without answering or responding in any verbal way, she moved her hand to open the door.

The noise, loud and grating as always, woke her. Evident by the changing in her strange breath sounds. In the dark, the prisoner - the woman - painfully moved to a seated position against the farthest wall.

A few short breaths, the deepest she could painlessly manage, Starbuck was preparing herself for another episode. Pressing hands flat at the wall behind her, she pushed off to life herself up. The small task of waking seemed to have been the extent of physical preparation her body had planned to allow. But with her hands on the wall, she used her good - the term used loosely - leg to raise the weight of her body. Making it halfway up, she noticed for the first time her company. Specifically the lack of shiny silver. Just the blonde. Which meant one of two things.

Either they were going to save the trip and have all the fun right there, or maybe it was finally time to end this. This was the last visit.

Approaching slowly, cautious of the response her presence would ignite, she saw even clearer than before the stories told on the human's appearance. Tales of one sided attacks written in the deep dark bruises matching the shade of the shadows. In the blood and dirt caked in layers on her skin and matted in the once fair hair.

Yet she forced that body to it's feet, though with obvious struggle, before her very eyes. He noticed, as well, the same thing with his own musing.

"The resilience is remarkable." he spoke, a voice heard only by her ears. "Such determination in the face of inevitability. It may be impressive if it weren't so pointlessly pathetic."

"I'm not here to hurt you." speaking not to the man seen only by her eyes, as the distance between herself and the woman slowly decreased.

She couldn't help the brief laugh, though her chest hated her for it. Ribs grating against their broken pieces. "That's - " her voice, hoarse and unused, adjusted by those same screaming bones, sounded foreign to her own ears. "That's nice." she forced the words. "That's a good one."

"Well now, she doesn't believe you." him again. "There's a surprise."

"I mean it. " The Six spoke to the woman. "I'm not going to hurt you."

A final step, she was within arm's reach. As soon as she settled her foot on the ground, Starbuck made sure to move. Pushing of the wall, lurching herself forward, taking a swing at the Cylon.

Caprica leaned back, easily avoiding the fist that cut through the air in front of her. Arms reacting quick enough to catch the soldier under the shoulders as balance was lost. Momentum of the attempted attack, spinning her round, her back to the machine.

"Careful." as it too easily held her weight from hitting the floor.

"Frak you!" she growled, throwing herself out of the grip. Hitting the hard floor, she couldn't think to suppress the coughs that erupted from her burning chest.

"Tremendous spirit, this one." appearing now at the far wall gazing down amused, "Shall you tell what a perfect example of futility it all is?"

Rolling on her back, fire raging in her chest. She stilled, waiting for it to settle, so very sure she could hera the shattered bones scraping against one another near the lungs that hadn't had an easy breath in any recent memory. Waking and breathing had never been more work in her life.

Then it was touching her again. Hands moving her, not like before. Not like usual. Gently, she'd even say carefully, doing so. Not far. A moment, a foot, maybe more. She was seated, the leaning back on the wall. What was this game?

The cylon was there in front of her. Very close to her.

"Just…do it already." through gritting teeth the words exited. Fighting down the groan in her throat, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing it all away. Waiting, praying, for it to pass. "Whatever this game is….Just get to it."

"Yes, let's." he agreed, tilting his head towards the one who saw him.

"I want to help you."

"Yeah.' Scoffing. "I guess you're the funny one, right?" pausing to clench her jaw at a fresh wave traveling through her body.

"We're not all the same." It responded. "You know that. I'm not like the other Sixes." Pausing a moment, looking to see if the information would be accepted at all. "They call me Caprica."

"And I thought you guys liked you're numbers." answering cynically. This thing that destroyed the planet she once called home dared to use that very same planet's name as it's own.

All the talking, making breathing more and more of a chore. Short, struggled breaths dominant in the sounds of the room. The six biting her lip as it reached her ears.

"Oh that doesn't sound good." he mused, sitting right next to the prisoner, his eyes on her though she was completely unaware of his existence. "Sounds rather painful actually."

Acknowledging his statement with her own observation, "Her ribs are broken."

"No shit." reminding her the words were heard by the room's occupant. Obviously not noticing the words weren't directed at her.

Remember the stop she'd made before this place, she reached into her pocket. Pulling the small syringe hidden from within. "I brought you something…" eyes locking on to the dark shadowed green, " . . . for the pain."

Inhaling through her nostrils - stiff upper lip - she ignored the temptation to grab it from the Cylon and jam it into her skin herself. The urge to simply trust that the liquid in the tube would erase the pain solely on the word of the machine. But instead : "I don't want it." Lie. "I don't want anything from you."

"What were you expecting?" he asked, continuing without pause, sitting against the wall. "Think she'd offer up a vein without question…Please Miss Cylon, stick your needles and chemicals into me.." he asked mockingly, tilting his head with a 'tsk' sound. "Could be anything in there. Why would she let you?"

"I don't _need_ her to let me, do I?" addressing him, careful having her seemingly one-sided conversation.

Before any preventative measures could be attempted, the machine's arm struck out as a serpent. The stick, acting as it's fang, jamming into her thigh, the plunger instantly pressed down. Exclaiming in surprise, pulling away from the wall. Coughing in the pained folded position, she angrily ripped the needle from the meat of her leg.

"Easy." palms finding her shoulders, pushing her back up against the wall.

"Well played." with a short, half-hearted applaud. "Though quite out of character for you. Hurting the poor human like that, your sympathies must be depleting."

The quick acting drug did just that. Almost immediately spreading a thin blanket over her. She couldn't say she wished it hadn't happened. As much as she wanted to be able to do so. To wish she'd fought off the cylon who called herself the name of a planet - the planet that used to be called her home - she didn't. Wrapped in the warm euphoric blanket, she let herself indulge, not remembering the last time she wasn't riddled in several sorts of agony. Had to be careful with pain meds though. She knew how they could frak with your coherence easily if you let it. Have you spouting any or all of your dirtiest laundry to whoever's in the room.

The change was visible to Caprica, who saw very quickly, the release on her features. It made her feel better - only barely- about this whole thing. That she could, at least for a brief while, take away the physical pain of this hideous situation. The rest of it…the sight, the smell, every bit of psychological torment, at the very least she could help with this.

Head leaning back, eyes closed, face no longer contorted with pain, she appeared serene save for the remaining sounds. As though floating in a dreamless sleep. Caprica thought for a few moments that she had allowed the drug to do just that for her until:

"You're waiting for me to say something." speaking a bit easier than before. "Get me whacked out enough to talk." the razor absent from her tone. "Not gonna happen."

The cylon shook her head in the shadows. "That's not it." she answered, repeating yet again her intention. "I told you, I want to help."

"You want to help me? Tell me, " opening her eyes now. "WHy aren't I dead?"

"Interesting question." Gaius spoke in response. "Of course if it bothers her so much, you could tell her all the lovely inevitabilities coming her way. The slow, decaying atrocities of dehydration, starvation. Or, perhaps, the pneumonia that's developing even as I speak. Yes, I think the question is rather pointless." Some time during his words he'd moved behind her, voice very close to her ear. "She will be dead in fair time, needn't worry about that."

"No. It won't work that way." she answered him. "Death won't come until they're ready. She - " pausing, catching herself, focusing back on the woman. "You won't die until they want you to."

Some time passed in silence, the machine's words sinking slowly into the heavy walls surrounding them. Even the man had left them for the time being. Leaving just the two of them.

"You want to help me?" she asked again, same tone as before. To which the answer was again 'yes'. "Then why not just give me a gun or-or some kind of weapon that'd help get me out of here? That's how you can help me."

"Do you think, even with a gun, you could make it out?" asked disbelievingly. "You, alone and in your condition. You really think you'll be able to get close to getting out?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." honestly. There wasn't much to support the former. "I'll die trying if I frakking have to."

"You're not getting it." annoyed slightly. "You won't. You won't die trying. You'll be stopped, you'll be caught, and then it'll be worse."

"Worse?" skeptical. "It get worse? Where does it get worse?" angry over the assumption. She wasn't sure if it made her want to laugh hysterically or cry like a punished child.

"Trust me." ignoring the scoff that followed. "What you've been through…it'll be nothing in comparison. Cylons have more advances in everything including methods of torture. You'll go through punishments and pains you couldn't begin to imagine and they'll keep you alive to do it all over again. " she wondered if she was lying it on a bit too thick. But the point had to get across. "The farm?" she spoke, seeing the change in the face before her. Yes, she remembered. "IT'll be hell."

"You don't know hell." it sounded like a predator's growl in the shadows.

Glaring at the toaster who dared presume to understand her measure of pain. She did believe it, though. Believed that the frakkers had more creative ways to induce and prolong anguish.

Turning her head at a new sound, she turned back to the Caprican native. "I have to go." getting up, and quickly moving to exit.

Pausing at the door, she dismissed the leave it open for her. The words she spoke, she knew to be true. It would not help the woman if she attempted to escape; especially now. Looking as though she couldn't carry her weight two steps without collapsing. Turning back once before closing the door.

"I'm sorry I couldn't more. Sincerely."


	9. Saints and Sailors

**A/N: ** So I'm back once again. Of course once again it's a bit later than I would like but what can you do. With one computer, two roommates and work and EVERYTHING…however one got a laptop and the other is in the process so my fun little desktop will soon be mine! On a side note, "RAZOR" is sitting comfortably on my parents DVR due to my lack of cable in this lovely little apartment I haven't seen it. So I don't know why you would, but either way, don't say anything that happened or you will face the consequences! I have spoken ….here we go!

_0000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

In the center of the room, standing at the side of the set bed, she stared down at the furniture. Her new home. It was bigger, o bars, no non-stop guarded company. Living where the Cylon once lived. She was 'relocated' after Cottle gave her the go-ahead to leave the sickbay. The cigarette dancing on his lips as he told her nothing was broken and the swelling would go down in a few hours. The sideways glance he gave from reading the x-ray and the way he worded his sentence - _"Nothing's broken. Anymore anyway.." _- only inspiring her to leave faster, even if it was back to hack. Thankfully he dismissed and digressed - _"But if it's healed it's really not my concern is it?"_ - and she was free to go… in a manner of speaking.

What a lovely surprise waiting for her, too. A day later, she was standing there, wondering how in the worlds they thought this would be a good idea. She ran a hand over the pillow. Knowing this was where it slept, and now they wanted her to sleep there. Lovely. If she wasn't already sleeping on the floor this would've certainly invited the action.

A tap on the window, someone wanted her attention. After the pathetic display he'd been witness to, she was surprised to not have seen Lee yet. So, she figured it may be him, or not. Either way, she was in no hurry to speak to anyone. Willing whoever it was to go away and just leave her the hell alone, another tap sounded from her back. Louder this time, as if believing she didn't hear, rather than chose to ignore.

Straightening up, she turned and found herself locking eyes with the one who once stood in her very spot. Stepping closer without breaking eye contact. Stopping an inch from the glass that separated them. Holding the gaze, it was a long few seconds before Sharon grabbed the receiver on her side. Keeping it held against her ear, waiting for her to do the same.

"Hi, Kara." she greeted once the woman finally did.

"What do you want?" replied sharply.

"How are you?" the question made her scoff in response. Shaking her head, smiling a humorless smile.

"You must be loving this yeah?" she mused. "Being on the other side of this. Me, in here. You, out there with your pretty uniform and shiny new tags. Isn't life grand?"

"Sure, Kara. You're right. I'm loving this." she replied sarcastically with a chuckle. "You know, there are a lot of problems in the fleet right now. With people still recovering from New Caprica. The food shortage is getting worse and worse everyday, no matter how we try to ration it out. And there's always the threat of the Cylons showing up at any moment." she listed off just the ones she could think of off the top of her head. "All of these problems, very serious problems, and still almost everyone on this ship is focused on this. You have no idea how hard I worked for this pretty uniform and my shiny tags. And people blame me for this. It's my fault the great Starbuck is in lock-up. You think I'm enjoying this?" she shook her head. "I want this over and resolved as much as anyone else."

"That why you're here?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "To make peace and get all the mean people to leave the poor cylon alone?"

"No. I'm here for Karl." she answered.

"I know he didn't send you here for him." she stated. "Even he's never been that dumb."

"You're right. He didn't send me." the machine told her. "He's at the dance. He doesn't know I'm here." She remembered hearing the marine's talking about it. She loved them. Remembering the last one she'd been to was right after they found out about Galactica's decommissioning. There's a lot of anger to work out when you find out the place you lived, worked, and loved was to be shut down and set up with cheesy gift shops and for all the civies to trek in and out of with no where near the amount of respect it deserved. Understandably, she wouldn't be participating in this one. "He's real torn up over this."

The dark haired Cylon speaking again on behalf of it's husband. "Is he?" asking cynically. "What am I supposed to do about it?" her voice dismissive and detached from caring about the issue.

"You-" cutting herself off, shaking her head once more. "Never mind. I've gotta go. Probably already missed Helo's fight."

"You know," the words stopping Sharon from setting the handle back down. "I hear you got yourself a call sign. They call you Athena now."

"Yeah, that's right."

"But you know, and I know, that you're an Eight. A copy of a copy of a copy. No matter how you dress or what you call yourself. The fine print….is you're just another Eight."

Kept eyes locked as they had at the start of the exchange. Neither flinching their gaze until:

"What's going on?" a new voice asked.

"Nothing." Sharon the eight, call sing Athena, answered to the glass before facing Lee, who she hadn't heard come in. Taking in his appearance it seemed he'd already had his turn in the ring. "Helo still down there?"

"No." he told her. "Got called early. It's over."

"Ok." feeling the edge in his short sentences. No surprise there. Of all people, she knew he was no doubt one of them in the category she'd spoke of earlier. "Right." taking her exit.

After she'd gone, making sure she had, he surprised the woman behind the glass by opening the door. She didn't question what was going on, or even how he'd got the means to open the secured door without marine's present - for his protection of course- until he spoke.

"Come on."

"WHat?"

"Come on." he repeated, gesturing for her to step out to join him.

Following him, they moved down the corridors. Lee leading her through the hatches not often used to avoid the eyes of crew traffic. She didn't know what weird idea he'd been brewing or where he was sneaking her to, but she had to admit to herself that she easily preferred this than staying in that place. So, why not go along and see where it took her. Why not? What'd she have to lose anyway?

Finally, she realized where he was taking her right before the last door was opened. The vacant room still had the wreckage left behind by the abandoned crowd. All equipment still set up. Everything still present as if expecting the crowd to return to it in moments.

"Ready?" he asked, grabbing a set of gloves and tossing them at her. Watching her catch them, he continued as if he didn't see the questioning look she gave. Unclasping the harness, releasing the weapon and it's holster - which he'd only returned moments prior to relay the appearance of returning to his duties - to lay on the table.

"What are you dong?"

"We," he corrected pointedly, slipping his hands into his own set of gloves before looking up at her. "are getting into the ring."

It felt like even the recycled air being pumped in around them thought as she did, that this was a bad idea. The last time, "Lee…."

He loved hearing her say his name. After so long without hearing from her, after everything that happened, being drop dead sure he'd never see or hear her again. All he wanted was to hear her talk to him the way she used to. This seemed to be a step in that direction right?

That aside, he knew what she was saying. What she was worried about. And it wasn't getting caught or seen where she most definitely shouldn't be. Technically she shouldn't be anywhere other than the lock box he'd snuck her out of. It was about a repeat. "Hey," he said to her, "I trust you." Holding her gaze, the words more honest than anything he'd ever spoken in his lifetime. "Now come on."

Lifting himself up and into the roped off mat, leaning against the rope to face her. "Unless you're not man enough?" Putting in a mouth guard, making the following smile a goofy feature on his face.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he threw a few punches through the air in her direction. That goofy smile again. Like catching a disease, she couldn't help but to produce one in return. Removing her shirts, tossing the tanks to the floor, she slid her hands into the fisted mitts he'd thrown to her. Standing outside the ring, in her bra and gloves, she had to remember sparring with Helo. Playfully and in all seriousness. They'd done it for fitness. To work through emotions and problems. Hell, they'd even done it simply to pass time before.

"Hesitant over there." he teased still bouncing. "Scared Starbuck?" his words adjusted by the guard beneath his lips. Another odd shaped smile.

She followed suit, climbing between the ropes and biting down on her own mouth editing piece. Remembering then, the metal disks hanging from her neck. Pulling out of a glove, she removed the chain, and turned to hang it on the corner post. Gazing at them a few moments, the small octagons. Holding one in the open hand, running her thumb over the flat surface.

Lee stopped bouncing when she turned around; feet suddenly the weight of stones, smile fading. The marks. Crisscrossing, overlapping, jetting in every direction. He felt he may actually have a physical reaction. She was still, looking for some reason at the tags she'd removed. Forcing him to face the angry scars, paler than the already pale skin. Sniffing, he felt the sting in his eyes. Remembering her behavior, the day before and now seeing them. It was a lot; too much.

He turned away , so not to see it anymore. Not to be caught staring. Facing the other direction now, he wiped at his face, difficult with the gloves on. He breathed in and out, making sure to get under control before losing it. Determined to get the mood back, he started, again, bouncing as he had been before.

"Ready?" he asked, hoping the question inspired her to turn since he did so as he spoke. Thankfully he was right. "Alright." pounding the fists together once more, settling into a stance, "Let's go Thrace."


	10. The Words You Wield

**A/N:** Wow…how very long has it been? Far too long is the answer to that. There was a whole lot of stuff that happened at once. I won't go into details but we'll just say health was temporarily altered, mobility limited, but that's past and over and here we are now. At least here I am, hope you're still here too. Only one way to find out…

_0000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

Her body shook. Freezing despite the layer of sweat coating every inch. She could feel how disgustingly slick it was under her hands; wrapping her arms around her shivering self in an attempt to fight off the chill. Laying on her side, she could smell the sick combined odors that stained it. All from her. Everything on it was, too, on her. She knew that fact in her throbbing mind, she smelled just like this floor.

If she didn't have other priorities, she might roll over, away from the stench. But she did have something else on her mind. She could picture, with every burning pulse, the open wounds, swelling with infection - that no doubt brought on her current feverish state- that kept her off her back and therefore kept her nose to the floor. She saw, in her mind's eye, the new ones ripping open the old as the flesh split painfully apart. The shirt that she'd worn for so long, with every incident becoming less and less. Every mark on her skin below an identical slash in the fabric.

"_What time is it?"_

Her body jerked at the sound of the voice. Moving to raise in the darkness, the dizziness tilting the world, she saw no one. After a brief second, she lay back down, eyes closing, feeling the heavy weight of the fever on her body.

"_You're up early."_

"What?" she jerked again, actually answering what she knew had to be a hallucination. She didn't rise this time. His voice echoed off the walls.

"_Yep."_ her voice answered, but not her. She heard her words in her voice and knew this wasn't just a fever induced hallucination. This was a memory. Playing for her like a film that was now being projected on the back of her eyelids. She could see the scene perfectly; him waking in the bed, her at the table going over the hand drawn map for the hundredth time.

"_Don't you usually wait until the crack of dawn?"_ he had teased her though sleep still in his voice.

"Couldn't sleep." she answered, herself, aloud, her meager voice synching up with the stronger one belonging to this past version of her. She remembered this word for word. "This is a big one, Sam."

"_I know." _she could feel his warm arm snaking around her stomach as he came to stand at her back.

"_This one they'll remember."_ the Kara Thrace in the cell did not join the other in speaking now. Instead she silently cursed the woman that day; still staring down at the map. She urged her to turn around. Turn around and look at him. Look in his eyes like you should do, correction, should have done so much more when the chance was hers. The chance to make him know despite her actions and behavior towards him, how she felt about him and them and their marriage. But she didn't.

"_Hell yeah they will. And I'll be right there with you."_

"_You're not coming." she'd crudely stated._

"_Excuse me?" _ he let go. She could feel that. Laying her dirty hand on her stomach where she could swore his warmth had been._ "Yes, I am."_

"_No."_ she'd finally turned to face him long enough to push his hands away from her and walk away.

She listened to it, watched it happen, while laying there on the foul floor. Her argument that he hadn't been well long enough to exert himself, especially on something like this where a life could easily be lost for being a second or a step off your game. He argued that he was strong enough and ready and was adamant that he accompany her on this one. After the back and forth, he'd ended up on the opposite side of the tent, hands on his hips, facing the floor and stating after a few quiet moments:

"_Your different…you know, when they're around. It's like you're another person."_

"I know." she answered his statement, unaware of from behind her closed eyes that she had an audience to her words. "I have to be."

Caprica stood for the second time on the opposite side of the bars looking in. She'd come as she had before, bearing the drug in attempt to ease what little she could. She watched silently, the pilot speaking to emptiness, to something or someone she saw only in her head. Looking at the man on her left, who said nothing to her. He only looked at her, watching her reaction, waiting.

Meeting his eyes, her jaw tense, she shook her head and opened the door. He followed behind, his calm confidence opposing her hesitant approach. Setting down the small lamp she'd also brought, the dim glow allowed her to eradicate most of the shadows without being strong enough to draw attention from any who might peer down the corridor. The light didn't seem to affect her at all, she remained as she was, lids scrunching, eyes moving beneath them.

"She's fevered." Caprica whispered to him, kneeling next to her.

"Yes, quite so." he responded lighting a cigarette, squatting next to her. "And delirious. What do you suppose she seeing? Hmm?" he asked.

"She needs antibiotics." Six stated, ignoring the question he asked. "The wounds are infected. They need to be treated or she'll die."

"So why treat them?" she looked at him accusatory after his question.

"I just said. Because -"

"She'll die." he interrupted, "yes I heard you. So then why? You're so anxious to help; to ease the pain, stop the inhuman suffering. So let it stop, let it take it's course and…" he took drag from the stick and blew it out slowly without finishing his sentence.

She shook her head, maybe he made a point, but she couldn't-didn't- feel it was right. She was surprised no one had yet come to notice, come to prevent the death that barreled forward. She decided she'd make a return trip to the medical supply from which she'd twice now taken without anyone else's knowledge, and return with the necessary things. Wanting to have an idea of how bad it was, how progressed, how much she would need to get her hands on., she cautiously reached for the hem of the shirt.

Leaning forward to glance at the affected wounds on her back once they were better revealed to her, she started to lift the fabric up. Gasping loudly when the clammed hand unexpected grabbed her own and stopped the action. She fearfully looked at her face, locking eyes as the lids parting enough to reveal the glazed orbs beneath She cleared her throat, finding her voice she spoke softly to them:

"It's ok." she assured, "It's ok."

A few moments, she saw the chest moved with erratic breaths, the eyes, in the dark, attempted to focus. Finally after what felt like an eternity of silence, the frail cracked voice…

"Samuel?"

"Oh well isn't that sweet?" Gaius asked cynically from behind her.

"Yes." Caprica answered in a whisper after swallowing the lump in her throat. Than stronger, she spoke to comfort the delirious woman. "Yes, it's-it's me. It's ok."

"I'm s-sorry." she answered, unknowingly to a cylon. There were tears with her words, adding yet another stain to the floor. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh." he spoke, standing and moving across the room away from the disgusting scene. Caprica remained in place, though there was an amount of guilt in lying to enable to fever dream, she continued to do so.

"Shh." she spoke softly. "Shh. It's alright. I'm here. It's going to be ok." she told her. "I brought you something, it's for the pain…it'll help you sleep. Ok?"

She didn't speak any answer to her, but removed her truly ineffective hold on her hand. Again the six knew she did not need her to allow her to give it to her, as she'd proved with her last visit. But nevertheless, she brought out the syringe and carefully applied the drug to do as she promised. She waited for her eyes to close once again still speaking soft words of comfort until they did.

"Well," Gaius spoke. "That was beautifully touching." he said, getting her attention. She glared at him with a combination of emotions, some of which being shock, anger, sadness to name a few. He sighed at the look pointed towards him and tossed the cigarette butt to the floor. "Can we go, now?"


	11. The Same Deep Water As You

**A/N: ok. So attempting to get a flow going. And being an insomniac I've got nothing better to do at near 2 in the A.M. other than watch old slashers and eat macaroni and cheese. So hopefully this helps both of us.**

_0000000000000000000000000000000000000000_

Maybe this hadn't been the best idea.

This was his thought, as the fatigued punch connected with his exhausted face. They were both dead on their feet in the ring, still squaring off after who knew how long. He felt absolutely no strength left anywhere in his entire body, yet he refused to go down first. He could tell by looking at her, that this was her same stubborn thought process. Looking at her, he could see she was already starting to bruise in places, her nose bleeding, lip split. The only sort of assessment he could make of his own status was that he tasted blood. Other than that he'd have to look in a mirror to see the toll he knew she'd given him.

Lee had been almost instantly caught off his guard by her. He'd remembered a few spars they'd had in the past - not many, it was usually something her and Helo did with one another- and he remembered, a few of the impulse shots he'd taken from her. In all those memories, he had not once remembered her punches being as forceful and painful. Then again, he had known that she'd been spending most of her life in the gym since her return so it only made sense the shape she'd be in. From the first brick-like hit he took from her, he knew this would not be easy nor over quickly.

He'd intended for a therapeutic, yet expectedly intense, way of getting out some of her emotions. Without meaning to, he'd ended up using it for himself. Somehow his mind kept putting him back to New Caprica, to all that frakked up mess that happened while his feet touched that ground. He kept thinking about waking up in the grass alone, finding out from his father that she'd just run off and got married. That after what happened between them that night, what they said - shouted really - she could just wake up and promise her life, heart and soul to someone else. And out of hurt, out of spite, he'd done the same.

And that it was her idea…that was like rubbing salt in an open wound.

Every time he hit her, he was hitting her that day. He was punching the woman who said she loved him. The woman standing there with her brand new husband. Sometimes when he punched her, he was punching him too; the husband. The dead man. It was wrong to be mad at him because it wasn't his fault. Anders had done nothing that Lee, himself, hadn't done. Simply enough, become unwillingly and hopelessly enthralled by Kara Thrace. Difference being, she chose the other man over him. Now here they were, beating each other senseless and barely standing.

The glove, again, meeting his body, each time with less force than the time before. He wondered, now, after swinging back with his own barely-there punch, who she was swinging at. Obvious thought would be the cylons, but he couldn't not wonder whether or not a few of the shots in there were for him too. For walking away without a word, for not being bigger and breaking the silence between them first, for jumping away and leaving her and everyone else there at the mercy of the bastards. Who knew?

All the aforementioned thoughts swirling in his head, he somehow built up a right hook that was as powerful as some of those traded in the opening of their dance. Hitting hard the side of her face, she reeled back, ready to fall were it not for the ropes that were there for such an event. The top one hooking under her shoulder, using her other hand to pull herself back to her feet. She groaned and stood for a moment, gathering her breath before finding her own burst of strength in return.

Charging at the man, her shoulder ramming into his gut in a tackle that took them both down. She sat on top raising her arm and bring the gloved fist back on him. He blocked her shots with his own gloves while she took a good number of them. After a few more, she pulled back as if to punch again, but Lee looked between his blockade to see she just held it in position above her without throwing it. She remained for a second longer like that, straddling him, poised to attack, breathing heavy, until she let it just fall to her side. At the action, Lee moved dropped his own hands, letting them fall to the mat under him.

His chest heaved beneath her weight, and he saw that her eyes had changed. From where they were when she ran at him and sat atop his body, they were different now. More…present. Wherever she'd been, whether it was the same place he had or not, she'd come back. This, he assumed is what made her decide to drop that punch. Turning her head to the side, she spit the mouth guard out.

"I think you broke my nose." she stated breathlessly, moving backwards until she was off of him and sitting on the mat, leaning against the corner post. Still laying on his back, he followed suit, spitting out his own mouth piece.

"Well, I can't feel my legs." he returned, taking a few more heaving breaths before rising enough to move himself to sit next to her. A few seconds, the only sounds their breaths. After some time sitting like that, she spoke first, as it had been in their situation following their respective marriages, she was the first to break the silence. Granted it had been to ask for a favor for her sick husband, but nonetheless she had then spoken first as she did now.

"I've missed you." to which he turned towards her, scooting his body - which was completely dead weight - closer.

"I've missed you too." She turned towards him and surprised him by smiling. By giving him a bloodied yet altogether genuine smile. He smiled back and for some reason, started laughing. Without knowing why, he was laughing and then so was she.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted. The two of them, exhausted beyond belief, beaten to hell, but laughing like drunken idiots. Once it finally subsided, he realized he still wore the gloves. Pulling out of them and tossed them towards the center of the ring. She did the same, neither pair making it very far.

"How you feeling?" he asked her,

Touching the back of her hand to the crimson stream beneath her nostrils, pulling it away to gaze at the liquid that transferred onto it. Wiping it onto the flat surface they sat on, she answered.

"Never better."

"I'm serious." he spoke now, "I mean I thought this might help you out a little, or something, I don't know." he continued.

"You sure it wasn't your own little out?" she mused, savvy to what he'd been doing.

He shrugged, "I guess it worked for both us? Come on, Kara, talk to me." he suggested, returning the subject to her and not him. ""What're you thinking?"

She sighed, "You want to know the truth, Lee?" she began, "I'm thinking about how much of this I saw on New Caprica." Holding up the hand she'd used to wipe at the blood, red still smeared on the flesh. "I'm thinking of the last thing I said to him."' she listed, meaning her husband. "I'm thinking I'm never going to fly again. What do you want to talk about, Lee? Take your pick."

"You'll fly again, Kara." he stated as if there was no doubt in the world; though he didn't want her to know he had his own reservations about whether or not his words were true. In reality, it was all he could hope, because he'd done the months without having her on his flight roster, and those were really all he ever intended to spend like that. Being the best pilot in the fleet, ergo the best Viper pilot left in the universe, was worth nothing if she wasn't out there doing it. He knew how much it was hurting her to not be flying; to be limited and - for lack of a better word - caged up.

"You don't know that." she answered. "Roslin doesn't trust me to walk the halls, forget flying a Viper."

"Forgive me for saying," he started, "but have you done anything to prove her wrong?" he asked, noting that she didn't look at him, "I mean, I can understand that it's not easy…far from it. But you know she's been to Galactica a few times since what happened in the gym to see if there's been any sort of progress-"

"Progress." she scoffed at the term. As if she were an experiment or something to be observed and studied.

"Point being," he continued, "what has she seen so far? You refuse to acknowledge Dr. Farrow, you've…."he sighed. "Helo, when he came to talk to you. And I'm not asking you to just open up out of nowhere and bare everything that happened, but if you made some sort of effort. Just the smallest anything."

"Do you want to hear everything that happened, Lee?" she asked pointedly. Watching his face, the strength of his argument faltering, him looking away. "That's what I thought." she spoke quietly, herself looking down at her lap as she did. "I'm sorry," she started, still not looking to him. "It's just…"

"You don't have to apologize." he voiced, hearing her trailing off. "You know, when you're ready, you're ready. You just have to find a way to make it through. You got to find a way to survive. If that means keeping it to yourself or spilling it to a shrink in a suit, I don't know, I guess."

They settled into silence again, Lee beginning to get the feeling back in his legs again, maybe he wouldn't be stuck immobile for the rest of the night. Again, as seemed to be a forming habit for the time being, she spoke first.

"I called him a pain in the ass." she spoke, reaching up for the chain that still hung on the corner post above her. Lee looked at her curiously, and she returned his look with a humorless smirk. "Sam." she elaborated. "We were on an assignment for the resistance. Me and Sam, Chief, a couple of civs. It was the biggest one we'd planned yet. It was going to have everything. Big booms, bullets flying, the works. We'd spent the week before, scoping out the Centurion's perimeter watches. We were set up on the hill getting ready to get to it."

She stopped a moment, tonguing the cut on the inside of her lip.

"But they changed things, more toasters, more rounds, on that day. It was like…" a pause, he saw the muscles of her jaw tense and twitch she spoke through clenched teeth. "It was like they knew. Like they knew we were there."

"What happened." he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"Metal bastards…the shots started." she answered. "They started shooting and then we were shooting. We were out numbered and overwhelmed so I gave the order to fall back." she informed. "To retreat and regroup. On the retreat, one of the civvies took a hit, " she pointed her finger to her chest "right in the chest. One of Sam's pyramid buddies, he tried to go back for him, but I told him…I _screamed_ at him. Said : ' He's dead. It's no use, he's dead Sam.'' Finally got him moving and, they were chasing us and firing through what little woods there were on that damn rock. And one of them, one of them got off a lucky shot. Caught Sam in the leg."

Lee listened intently, like a child whose parents were telling a grand story before sending him to sleep.

"Chief covered fire, I pulled him behind a rock to take a look. Tied my jacket around the wound, he told me to leave him. I took his gun, told chief, once it was clear that he made sure to get him back to camp or he'd wish he'd been the one that'd been shot. Sam yelled at me, told me to forget whatever crazy ass idea I was cooking. I told him to shut up…I, uh, I kissed him and I said, ' You're such a pain in the ass.' and took off east. Drawing their attention and fire. And then…then I'm at a table, in a white room in the compound."

"I'm sorry, Kara." he spoke words that sounded trite but there was nothing else to say. Unfortunately there hadn't been any new sort of word to express true sympathy other than that one five-letter overused and over-heard apology. "That's the last time you saw him?"

"No," she answered after a moment, looking up, staring off somewhere else; some place he wasn't allowed to see. "I saw him one more time."


	12. You're Gonna Need Someone On Your Side

**A/N: I apologize for the delay. I know I'm mean. I tease you with two updates , getting your hopes up and then…what happens? Financial burden, lots of work, and piggy backing on a move to St. Louis kind of puts a pause on things. Especially waiting the three weeks it took to get moved, settled and then get the internet. But I'm here and hopefully I can get this going again relatively smooth. FYI i name all my chapters after song titles and this one in particular is an awesome song by Morrisey. Look it up people :)**

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She heard the door open but didn't raise her head from the cold surface of the table. Something different was happening today; today she was to be graced by the presence of the president. The ignorant president who wanted so badly to pretend the hell she and others went through didn't really exist. And the bastards she saw everyday did their part in helping him settle in that denial; evidence being the cleaned and freshly wrapped bandages. She'd been dragged out, washed up and dressed in clean clothes; all unknown to her until coming to and finding these things out first hand.

No doubt she still looked like hell and she knew that, but without the added effect of the blood and grime and tattered filthy clothing, it was an admittedly better look. She could still feel everything everywhere on her body, could still barely hold her head up, which kept it down on the table. That and she didn't owe the so-called leader of the people any of her focus. Everyone knew he was just a figure, just a puppet of the Cylons. She knew it was him who came through the door, his hesitant footsteps separated him from the others. He greeted her by rank.

"Captain Thrace," he spoke before clearing his throat, "lovely to, um, see you. Can I…Would you like anything? A glass of water?" he stumbled his words, holding tightly the papers in his hands as he looked behind him to D'Anna and asked if he could get a couple glasses of water. Looking from him to the Six standing behind her, she nodded and left.

He pulled out the chair and sat down, laying the material on the table in front of him. Laying his hands over it, he drummed his fingers lightly; anxiously looking across at the top of her blonde head as she remained face down.

"How have you been?" he asked, waiting for a response, pushing his glasses up his nose when none came. He glanced over at the six as she sighed frustrated and walked with a purpose. Stopping once she reached the far end of the table.; she grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled back so she finally raised from the position.

"The president is talking to you." she snarled, letting go. The woman glared at her and stated.

"I didn't vote for him." she found speaking -and breathing- easier now with the tightly bound wrap around the shattered bones of her ribcage.

"Wait." Baltar spoke quickly standing and holding his hand out, preventing the physical response the sixes always had to her sarcasm, "Wait, Stop can we just, can we begin please?" He paused until the cylon stepped away and then sat back down again. Adjusting his glasses unnecessarily, he spoke. "Despite the formalities, and, um, unique conversational technique of…we really do have a pressing matter to discuss. I understand you have knowledge about the insurgency. Knowledge that you, that you're choosing to keep to yourself. But recent circumstances have -"

"I've got nothing to say." she interrupted, grunting when she felt the cylon's "technique" on the side of her face. Reminding her of the deep sitting bruises and just in case she happen to forget what her blood tasted like fresh in her mouth. Barely keeping herself from falling out of the chair, she groaned louder than she would have preferred but she considered it a victory that her vision only blurred didn't disappear back into the black.

"That's enough!" the president once again speaking up. Pausing, he acknowledged the terrified shivers that flashed through his spine when meeting the eyes of the model. How two who looked identical could inspire two very different emotions was still stunning even to him. Continuing he swallowed before the words came carefully out: "What I mean to say, you're methods have yet to yield your, um, desired results and as this is my, um…interview, I'd appreciate if-if I could do this on my own."

The eye contact held for a few painfully quiet moments before the Cylon told him as curtly as possible: "Five minutes."

He continued facing the door a few moments after she'd gone through it, letting the nerves settle back to a more controllable state. Taking a deep breath, he turned around finally when he heard the familiar sound that recently had become less so. Facing her, she clapped twice more with her cuffed hands, He nodded, though it was more of a nervous twitch of the head than an actual nod, at her gesture though obvious sarcastic, and pulled out the chair once more to take a seat.

"I must say," she began, unable to fight the need to spray Starbuck's verbal abuse all over the pathetic man. "that was an incredible display of your political prowess. The way you delegate your authority with the 'Pretty pleases' and 'Thank you Miss Cylon'…….I can see now why you're president."

She surprised herself and her body, the most words she'd spoken in the days, weeks, months, she'd been there. She hadn't been sure if her voice would even work through the whole thing, if it knew how to form all of them, and with the cynical tone she'd hoped for too. It worked out nicely. It was worth the physical strain to get that out there and seem like her old self if only for a moment,. And on top of it all was the cherry that she got to do it to this son of a bitch in front of her.

"Right." he spoke quietly, again adjusting his glasses without need. "It's good to see you again Captain, though the circumstances are less than ideal. You look well."

She scoffed, would've laughed maybe if she thought she'd manage without it turning quickly to the bone rattling coughs she'd come to know. "How long's it been since you've seen an actual person?" she asked sarcastically, if he was trying to portray that he believed at all that she looked well then it would have to have been a seriously long time since he'd seen someone. "Or don't your shiny friends let you out of the house to play?"

"I, um, I'm afraid this isn't a social visit." he spoke, flinched by her razor statement

"No shit." she bit quickly, "So get on with it so I can tell you again I have nothing to say. Then we both get on with our daily lives leisure."

"Well, um-" he began, stopping when the hands slid over his shoulders. He felt the palms flatten as they slid down to his chest. The heat they generated matching what he felt at the back of the chair as she stood behind him. Running her slender hands, slowly, up and down, she said nothing; content, it seemed, with alerting him to her presence. "As I said before, " his voice shaking less now, feeling her with him. "I'm here because of something rather important. You have information regarding the insurgency and I'm here to ask for it, or something terrible is going to happen."

"I have nothing to say." she spoke again, as she'd promised she would.

"You don't understand." he began, the hands on his shoulders squeezing in reassurance, giving him her strength and encouraging him. Looking at the table, he opened the folder and glanced at the contents a hard moment before scooting it across the surface to her. She didn't move her steeled gaze from his face, as if his action hadn't happened at all.

"I have nothing to say." she repeated.

"Look at it." he told her. When she didn't flinch, he put a hand on his shoulder, laying it over the silky one already there, and looked up into those entrancing eyes. Holding them a moment, he closed his as he lowered his head and almost shouted. "Look at it please!"

Finally flicking her eyes down at the counter top, she took a look at what he brought her. A document. A list of names, hundreds of them, printed under the official letterhead of The Office of the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol with the Colonial insignia in a crisp bold black. Hundreds of names and at the bottom a designated spot awaiting the signature of the president. Scanning the list, she recognized many of the names. People she'd worked alongside for years. Not to mention, Laura Roslin, whom she still considered to be the president despite who the title was currently thrown at. A death list.

"You see, now, the gravity of the situation." he began speaking, watching her eyes roam over the list, unable to hide the affect it had on her from her face. He leaned further on the table, speaking softly. "These people, they're going to be executed…they're going to be killed unless you give me the information they want."

She looked at the list a moment longer, feeling her mouth dry as she read over each name. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she closed the folder and shoved it back at him - it's travel less graceful than before - and raised her eyes once more.

"I've got nothing to say."

"Damn it are you listening?!" he shouted slamming on the table. He stood up, grabbing it again. "They're going to die! All these people; hundreds of them! They'll be dragged away in the night and executed. You have the ability to prevent that. To save them and you've got nothing to say?"

She said nothing and he began to stomp around the table, pausing a moment, to turn back to the woman who finally spoke to him.

"Careful Gaius." she warned. He held a hand to her a moment and focused again on the corporeal woman.

"Well, I've got something to say." he stated, moving to stand right near her seat. "The names on here every single one, will be dead come morning because of your silence. Know that for a fact."

"Gaius." his name spoken again by the mystic voice.

"No." he answered it. "She has to hear! Dead. Their blood on your hands; their deaths on your conscience. How well does that sit with you? With your Gods?"

He stared down hard in the woman's eyes, his own words echoing harshly in his ears. He hoped, wished, prayed pathetically for this to work. To change her mind. She kept his gaze for seconds without a word. Then:

"Fine." she said face not wavering. " I _do_ have something to say."

He felt the unbelievable surge of relief at the statement and knelt down to her. Waiting anxiously for whatever she could give him that would stop this before it started.

"yes?" he asked in the close vicinity.

"Yes." she whispered.

Holding his eyes silently a second more before throwing her elbow into his face, knocking the president to the floor, holding his nose. Pushing back her chair, she leaned on the table, using all her little strength to scoot the furniture. Grinding her teeth at the pained effort, she somehow managed to muster enough to press it against the door. It wouldn't stop them for long, but it made her feel better when she turned back turned around, still leaning back on the table, and saw the man whining with his now red hand over the gushing nose.

The captain practically fell on top of him, he was terrified yet when she straddled his torso, his mind instantly traveled back in time to the night they'd shared all those years ago. How much lighter she was now atop him.

"You want to know what I have to say?" she asked, maybe screamed, she wasn't sure as stretched tight the chain of her wrists and pressed it down on his windpipe. "I say you point that righteous guilt trip in the right direction. It's not my name waiting to be scratched on the bottom of that paper, _Mr. President_." she spat. " The blood is all on you. The death is all yours. You think about that tonight on Colonial One when you're trying to sleep with all the toasters around you." she felt all this beginning to toll, even the adrenaline wasn't helping as it had in the past. Yet she continued. Hearing the gagging noises he made under the metal links., as her weight leaned more and more on it. "Every shot you hear, after you sign that, " she had no doubt he'd sign it to save himself. " those bullets ripping through bodies and brains and hearts, those are all yours."

He heard the shouting in the hall. They'd come back around to find the unexpected situation and no sooner did he hear them did the door fly open scratching the table across the floor as if it were nothing. Far different from the struggle she'd put into moving it.

"Blood doesn't wash away." he heard her say before the air came back.

The hand grabbed the knot that was her hair and pulled back viciously. Even in his state of coughing and gasping and spitting, of trying to steady the dizziness of his head, he noticed the sick thud a body makes when connecting with a hard surface. He thought to speak out. To say, 'stop' or something, but by the time his voice was able to power through the raw esophagus it was just he and D'Anna in the room.

A lie. Across the room, he saw her. Standing as tall and beautiful as always, looking in the direction of the still open door until she turned to see him. He kept his eyes locked on hers even when the three began speaking to him.

"I won't say I told you so." D'Anna spoke to him, regarding his certainty that he could convince the captain to divulge something, anything. "But I am afraid that your time for procrastinating has come to a rather … eventful end." she reached in her pocket, removing a pen and holding it out for him.

Looking at Caprica, he felt his heart shattering at the statement, knowing what was to come. Breaking even more because the way Caprica looked back at him. The longing and love was there as always, yet there was distinct regret, she was telling him to do it. To save himself.

Save himself by destroying himself.

He heard the click of the pen next to him.

"Sign it."


	13. If There's A Rocket, Tie Me To It

**a/n: **Yay! an update! I offer apologies, I started this in a certain frame of mind. And I have to go back to it to write this. . . But it's not a place I can be in unless i'm alone and it's harder and harder to find a significant amount of time by myself these days. But have no fear, it will be done...Just an fyi: i've had the ending planned since the start, meaning since before the start of season 4. SO that's why it's called an Alternate Reality :)

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The black of space engulfed him.

Standing straight and composed, he stared intently, drawn in by it's mysterious seduction. He would forever say that much about New Caprica; it was the first blue sky he'd seen in a very, very long time. And that was something as beautiful as anything he'd ever seen. Not enough to keep him there, however. He knew he was just visiting that beauty.

His place, his heart, had always been in the star scarred darkness of space. WHich was why he was unmoving at the view before him. The once transparent panes of the room had been transformed, by her hand, into the sight familiar yet foreign at the same time. SHe left only a section, roughly a three-maybe four- foot square on the front pane for eye contact during conversations or visits.

Finally pulling his eyes away from the hypnotic thrall it held over him, he turned around to face her. Standing at attention, the smears and smudges of paint on various parts of clothes and skin. She hadn't spoken, waiting first for her CO to do so.

"There was a reason, " he began, "this was glass."

"I know, sir."

"To be able to see through it." He elaborated. "Can't do that too well now, can we?"

"I know, sir." She replied again, and he thought he saw the familiar glint in her eye. The spark that came with defying rules, bucking authority.

Adama nodded, looking at the tool in his hand. He'd been with the president when the call came through. She, having demanded to be kept up to speed on every moment of the situation, got the same information that he did. That, sometime during the night, she'd started painting over the glass. Splashing the cans against the wall, spreading the color with hands, and shirts and whatever worked. He remembered Roslin merely sighing at the odd news and spoke to him: _I trust you to handle this appropriately._

He'd known, too, that the moment he'd entered, Starbuck's eyes had watched every movement. No doubt waiting for him to throw the tool at her and order her to scrape it all off. Though she probably expected it, he got the feeling from simply being in the room, that she feared it as well.

"At ease, Kara." He paused a moment, looking from her blackened hands back to the walls. "What am I thinking?" he asked, facing her again. "You're me…what am I thinking?"

"Who the hell gave her the paint?" she answered, to which – he surprised himself – he smiled and saw the ghost of smirk he worried he'd never see again.

"I've a few guesses."

Which he did. Just like he had a good guess as to why it was that she and his son both sported mysterious bruises the day after the dance. Why the mat and ring were left up longer than they should have. Being an "old man" didn't make him clueless. He might not know every detail about what happened on his ship, but he wasn't completely unaware.

"And what do I do?" he asked. "You're me. How do you take care of it?"

"I make that insubordinate ass scrape off every inch." She answered honestly, then adding: "Sir."

"Good call. " he answered, stepping closer to her. He reached the scraper out to the woman.

Not missing the note of disappointment that hid in the twitch of her clenching jaw muscles as she nodded and moved to accept it. As soon as her stained fingers wrapped around it, he tightened his grip, not allowing it to exchange hands. She looked up at him in confusion.

"But," Adama began, "if that insubordinate ass were someone I cared about deeply; someone who could speak to me off the record and trust me enough to give me an honest explanation…I might think on it to look away."

He held her eyes in silence, the two of them still holding the ends of the tool. Adama waited patiently, hoping – silently begging – for her to open a piece of herself to him. Give him a reason to justify leaving this alone. Justify it to himself, whether or not he could to others.

But really –_really – _he'd already decided. After first walking in, the first moment he saw her in this, he could sense the difference. Even before her remarks. Something about this, about doing this, had sparked the embers of a fire he missed. Not fully back to flame, but on it's way…still burning.

"Maybe…" her voice began in a whisper. She cleared her throat, strengthening her voice before starting again. "Maybe that ass, maybe she spent a little too much time in a – in a box being watched." She paused, looking away and licking her dry lips before continuing. "And, um, maybe she's never been …never felt right anywhere but-but the sky."

Bringing her eyes back to his, having looked at the floor for her third person confession – vulnerability wasn't one of her signature traits. "Maybe."

Adama nodded, his heart jumping up and down, happy for her display of trust. "Maybe."

He retracted his arm, letting the metal tool slip from her fingers, keeping it with him. "And maybe, there's an old man who knows how she feels." Referring to the fact that his home, too , was the limitless sky. "Clean yourself off."

"Yes, sir." She replied. Looking down at her hands, rubbing them together and on the legs of her pants, she spoke again as he began to exit. "Sir." Stopping him in the doorway, "I'll talk."

He looked at her curiously, not certain exactly what she was saying. Taking a quick step closer to him; only the one, the marine peering through the still clear square witnessed the action and reacted accordingly, raising the weapon with a warning. Something else she was used to. Adama waved the man off, seeming more annoyed with it then she was.

"To your doctor," she elaborated. "I'll talk to him…I'll try."

"Glad to hear it, Kara." He really was. "I'll get him on the next shuttle."

She nodded a thank you. She wouldn't be pouring everything out to the mouse. But she'd do what she could, what she had to, to get out of the glass cage. Get back some of her freedom. One day, get back her wings.

Sure, this place was definitely more bearable, but she still couldn't forget where she was. Where she'd been. Forgetting about cleaning herself off for the moment, Starbuck moved towards one of the three pitch black walls she'd created. Lowering herself to the floor, she laid down, staring up at it.

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He whistled to himself, a song he knew from years ago. A girl from Picon, she'd play it every time he came over. That was a lifetime ago, he couldn't even remember her last name…but damn it all, he remembered that song. Sharon still gave him sideways glances when she caught him whistling it around her. Sure, he didn't know her – well not _his_ Sharon at the time- but Boomer knew the story of the song. Boomer knew, so Sharon knew.

But for now, he was in the head, whistling to himself as he undressed for the shower. Glancing down at the mess he'd made on himself. He was such a damn klutz sometimes. Walking towards the shower, he saw Gaeta on his way out.

"Morning XO." He greeted, teasingly. He'd enjoyed giving the man a hard time about his new temporary position.

"Good morning, Felix." He answered with a grin.

"Whoa, Helo," the Lieutenant spoke surprised. "What happened to you?"

"It's nothing." He responded. "Just a little accident in supply."

"Supply?" he asked. "What were you getting in supply? What is that?"

Helo grinned to himself, and moved to pass the man. Slapping a hand on his shoulder as he did, and answered.

"Paint."


	14. Several Ways To Die Trying

**a/n: Another update! And in (what I would call) I reasonable amount of time! And holy crap I'm itching for the premiere! And I know you guys are with me on that! Bittersweet though, want it to start but don't want it to end ****L**** but I'm happy it's ending on their terms for sure. Beginning, Middle and End. This is long and a little more graphic than they have been I'd say. Here we go.**

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"What are you doing here?"

Stepping back, surprised by the presence of her sister cylon, surprised she'd been found there. It took Caprica a moment to speak to her twin.

"I have my reasons."

"This isn't the place for sympathizers." she spoke bitterly of Caprica's well known feelings towards their actions.

"Is this what you call harmonious living?" she asked, deterring away from why she was there. "Measuring our occupation in blood?"

"Some blood must be spilled in order to establish a dominant authority. I do what is asked of us for the betterment of our race. Can you say the same?" it spoke as though it had been coming there - was there now - on some noble mission. "The only blood you draw comes from your own bleeding heart for these…people. People, who just as quickly jump at the opportunity to strike down your fellow brothers and sisters. Not exactly the epitome of harmony is it?"

Opening her mouth for her rebuttal, he reappeared to interrupt her. "Don't." her mouth closed and she glanced sideways at him. "You don't want to get into this now. There isn't time. You'll want to get out of this building." Offering only a confused look, to which he cocked his head and looked back in the direction she'd come. "Suffice it to say, things are going to get very interesting, very quickly."

Not waiting for further divulgence, she started moving. Passing the other cylon woman without a word, no doubt allowing it to believe it had earned some sort of victory with her exit.

Passing through the door, she again listened to his instruction. Telling her simply to '_Leave it_' as she'd begun to close it behind her. Not asking questions just yet, she focused solely on leaving the large facility as quickly as possible without drawing suspicion from others.

-

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-

Sliding her hand over the dirty floor space until the flat surface introduced her to it. She found a powerful exhale, the speed of her heart, the adrenaline, made it less painful. That mixed with the drug she'd been given again. There was even the sting of victorious tears as she felt her hand wrap around the left behind object and bringing it to her body.

Pulling herself closer to the light, she inspected it. The empty syringe left forgotten by the visitor. Something similar to a smile played at her lips. "Ok." whispered to herself. Plan formulated; details, however, nothing pleasant. Nothing she particularly looked forward to, but if it worked it'd be worth doing a thousand times over.

Finding with her hands the only just healing wounds on her face and arms - if she could reach her back it'd be perfect. Every slice that matched the tear in the tattered shirt that barely hung to her torso - and reopening them. Holding her breath, hardly keeping herself from shouting out as she dug her fingers into a particularly nasty one on her shoulder. Not even remembering how she'd received it or when it finally stopped seeping crimson originally. She didn't give a rat's ass about giving herself an infection at this point as she forced until the liquid was again sliding out of it.

Guiding the red as it poured rather fairly, to make a puddle on the cement floor. A few moments of bleeding, she looked at it. Decent, but she didn't want decent…she wanted/needed, believable. She needed to be sure.

Taking as deep a breath as she was able, she held it in before counting to three in her mind and bringing her fist as hard as she could against her own face. Smashing into her nose, she wondered just how ridiculous that had to look as more self drawn blood began to flow. She waited for the room to steady before repeating the action once more. Gagging now as she tasted the blood drip down the back of her throat.

On hands and knees, watching the red fall to add to the pool below. _This better work_. Her only thought. Otherwise it was just more blood for nothing.

Now the last part.

-

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-

Six strode easily down the way, swinging the repeatedly used restraints as she moved. Her mind had finally forced away the annoyance of Caprica's ignorant views to better focus on the pending task. She reached her intended target, twirling the metals around once more as if they were weightless; the devious smile and half spoken call sign instantly dying away.

Irons dropped, a loud collision with the floor. Staring transfixed, mouth a shocked open gap at the scene. Before her, throat slit - _What could she have used?_ - lying in the life that had bled from the self inflicted gash. There she was.

Hastily opening the door, darting inside. Practically throwing herself at the floor. Kneeling, just out of the blood that pooled at the neck, she moved to check for signs of life. Maybe she could be saved. If they get Simon. She couldn't be dead. This wasn't the way.

So panicked, so focused on her appearance, Starbuck, whose breath she would not allow. Whose eyes she kept just barely open, her hand went unnoticed. The way she gripped the hidden object. And then she moved.

As soon as the machine made to check for her beating pulse, leaning within inches, panicked and fearful, that unnoticed hand moved, along with it's owner.

Darting up in less time than it took to blink. With a scream (a raw battle cry), she rose, as you would from a startling nightmare, jamming the needle into the neck of the shocked blonde. Hard enough the entire metal stick disappeared beneath the golden skin that covered the left side of the slender throat. Ripping and jerking it, the flesh tore with much effort until there was a gash in the neck roughly three to four inches long.

But that was enough. The fake blood instantly began to flow. Baring her teeth, she glared with all the fury she had in her, holding the eyes of the dying machine. Shocked. Confused. Defeated.

She'd outwitted her with her little human brain. She held tight, the machine's efforts weakened by the life slipping from her. The cylon's mouth moved, the sound of a half a word partly spoken. Looking at Six with poisonous eyes, Starbuck simply spoke:

"Told you."

Another second of dying…then there was only the weight of a machine. She finally let go as she wasn't sure how well she could hold herself despite the empowering adrenaline. A quick search of the dead machine turned up nothing. No weapons. She scrambled over to the door.

Getting there, she gripped a pair of bars, knuckles white, and pulled her body to her feet. Standing, alone, was enough to inspire her pass out, but not now. The brief thought came as she wondered how long - if ever - it would take for her knee to recover from the attacks it'd taken since her detention. But again, now was not the time.

If ever there was a time she needed to rely on adrenaline, here it was. Moving into the hall her heart's pounding, pounding, pounding gave her just that. Giving her strength. Adrenaline, sheer will allowing her movements; presence of mind to see and grab the discarded chains from the ground.

It wasn't a gun, but a weapon is a weapon.

A hand outstretched, pressing the wall for additional balance. She noted in her hurry, the empty cells. Cells once full of screaming people now empty; each had a strange rectangular square next to the door. All she came to was it had to do with however it was they opened them.

A noise up ahead and she halted. Flattening her back against the wall; the door feet away open. A familiar voice bidding someone goodbye. Then an Eight appeared from within. Instinct controlled her and she attacked before it could turn her way and see her there. Surprise was really all she had going for her.

So she surprised it. The chain links between the cuffs quickly found itself crossed over it's windpipe and pulled tight by the soldier behind the cylon.

The Sharon model was indeed taken by surprise and immediately began to go on the defensive. Pulling at the metal taught across her throat.

Starbuck found out quickly that when they weren't already bleeding to death, beating one of them in her condition was not so easily in the cards. The thing threw an elbow behind it, aiming to hit the assailant, but Starbuck was able to move her head out of target line before it was successful.

She held on, tightening as best she could, gritting her teeth as she did so. The cylon's movements forced her movements, more than one instance resulting in a majority of her weight landing on her right leg. The Sharon backed up against the wall, Starbuck caught between the two on the impact. When she still found a way to hold on, the dark haired woman bent at the waist, leaning forward until her attacker was no longer touching the ground.

Carrying the weight of the attempted escapee, she took a few steps forward before rushing backward once more, with a shout and a hell of a lot of force until hitting the opposite wall once again.

This time, the collision forced Starbuck to let go. Her hands releasing the chains and her body meeting the wall and ground subsequently. She heard the cylon coughing and cursing. She touched her hand to the back of her head where the wall had met it. Seeing her weapon nearby, she moved slowly to reach for it. The boot coming down on her hand before it got there, she looked up at the woman she'd seen on Galactica for over 2 years, who stared angrily back at her. The weight of the boot pressing her hand into the floor, grinding it down, out of no where her mother's voice - _Give me your hand! You like to play tricks? Give me your hand, Kara! _- creeping into her throbbing skull.

Then the weight was gone. The cylon was gone. Moved. From behind, it was grabbed and thrown against the wall. She didn't wait, grabbing the metal again, she got up and stumbled her way towards the rising cylon. She swung the heavy make shift weapon over head and down on the face she'd known for years. Over and over , the crunch soon transforming into a sick squishing noise. Blood and bone and skin violently fused into a disgusting mush at the tope of a body.

Breathing painfully heavy, a high pitched wheezing, glaring at the mess she'd made of it. Drained, she returned a hand to the wall to keep herself from collapsing completely, leaning heavily against it. Still it wasn't enough, her body stumbled stopping when a set of hands caught her. She jerked away from them, the only contact she'd known for months being that of the enemy, and kept herself from falling again.

"Who's that?" the hands owner asked in a gruff voice. She had to be hallucinating, and even then, of all people to imagine. Turning to see for sure who it was that kept her on her feet, she saw first the image of a great white beard. Almost like a floating ghost.

"C-" clearing her throat. "Colonel?"

"Thrace." he returned, taking a look up and down at her. "You've gotta be frakking kidding me. Thought you were dead." he commented; having, himself, been detained some weeks after she went MIA. "No offense," he continued after she shrugged. "was kind of hoping you were."

"Not that lucky." she answered; the reply, double edged. Could be directed for either of them. One sarcastic, the other morose. She couldn't help but notice the halfheartedly applied patch of gauze over his eye, but before she could mention or pretend not to notice he spoke.

"Gods you look like hell."

"You should see the other guy." at the comment, both sets of eyes fell to the unrecognizable, faceless mess on the ground. Clearing her throat a moment later: "So we getting out of here or what?" Starting to move again, still limply - though tight enough - holding the metal that reached the floor from her hand. They weren't far from the door.

"You good to walk?" almost making as if to help her do so.

"How you think I got here? Flew?" he meant nothing but help, but she wouldn't let on that she was more than ready to collapse and call it a good effort and nothing more. She knew attitude would keep her going. Determination, desperation, pride…Starbuck would keep her going.

At the doors, they were surprised to find it open. Just barely, but open nonetheless. Solving, before it arose, the problem of how to open it. Deciding on accepting the good fortune rather than taking time to question it, they passed carefully through. Nothing. All clear.

Another hall. Wider, no rooms in this one. Just a straight shot from one door to the other. They sure liked halls, it seemed. Quickest way between two points is a straight line.

She felt the last of her adrenaline wane. And with it's disappearance a sharp, high pitched noise filled her ears. As it continued and she leaned more and more against the wall, she got the dreadful thought that maybe she really wouldn't make it; that she really couldn't do it.

"Gods damn it!" he snarled, "Would you give me that already." grabbing the chain from her the noise stopping as soon as he did. She hadn't even realized she'd lowered it to drag along the floor; hadn't taken the thought for a moment that the sound was anywhere other than in her own head. Then his hand on her shoulder, stopping her, leaning her back against the wall. "And take a frakking break for frak's sake."

Absorbing a precious second against the wall and not a moment more, she spoke: "You have gone soft." wheezing a breath before beginning to move again. "Never used to give breaks."

"Never used to pull someone back was kicked your ass either." he mused. "Things change."

"Like there was…anyone…on that ship…"the space between her words stretched, her steps slow and unsteady, yet she pushed forward. "…who could."

"Talk like that that gets you into those scraps isn't it?" he asked, keeping the conversation going.

She didn't answer before the door came within reach. Moving ahead of her to take a look at it, planning to go through first; draw attention himself. Save for an eye and some bruises and cuts, he was head and shoulders above her health wise. This door, unfortunately, had not been left open for easy access. The man was quick to inspect it. The same rectangle in the wall to the left of the door. A flat, black surface he gazed at with his good (his only) eye before cautiously touched a finger to it. Pulling back immediately after a shock electricity jolted from it through his digit. So that's how it worked.

"Well, what now?" he asked, turning back to the woman who'd stopped a few feet behind him. Resting while his back was to her.

"Excuse me?"

"It's your plan, isn't it?" he spoke stepping closer her way. What happens now?"

"Wait." not sounding incredibly confident in her own answer.

"Wait?" he repeated the word.

"Yeah. Wait." sliding down the wall to the floor. "Only way out…is through that door. Can you open that door?" No, he couldn't. "We wait…til they do…do it for us."

"Until they come for us you mean."

"Yeah." she answered, now sitting on the floor than, in a whisper, repeating: "Til they come for us."

"That one you killed, it'll tell them what happened. Probably come with a couple shiny friends." he mused aloud.

"Probably." laying her palm over her knee as she tenderly straightened the leg on the ground. Wiping blood that had flowed from her nose down over her lips and chin. Spitting towards the floor, she spoke again, eyes looking at the liquid painted on her hands. "This is done tonight." Not looking up at him, though her words were directed his way. He moved to sit at her side. "Either we're out…or we're dead. I'm not going back in there."

Words slowing, the spaces growing still between them. Tigh sat next to her, listening, amazed she was able to remain even the slightest bit coherent. Let alone give him her infamous steely way (with the splash of actual Kara Thrace in there. Of the person, not just the soldier)Though he was sure the attitude she had given since meeting up with eachother was something of a show for him. So he gave his own performance to portray some semblance of comfort in the familiarity.

Hell." continuing with his show. "That's the smartest thing I've ever heard you say."

Without his eye, he had to turn his head to see her at his side. The image of the woman inspired the memory months prior. It couldn't have been ten minutes after Baltar surrendered them all. She burst into his tent, Chief in tow right behind her, with talk of fighting back. Make a resistance. _'GOtta fight 'em Colonel. We gotta fight and we gotta keep fighting until we can't!_''

He'd always give her that. No matter anything else he thought about her, her stunts, her disrespect and disregard towards authority figures, her recklessness, he always had and always would respect her. Since the holocaust she'd been all over everything involving the survival of the human. Pushing herself in on every mission even if it didn't have anything to do with her. Suiting up with a charge of marines, walking undercover into hostile situation, even planning Ops she couldn't take physical part in. Tigh had hated to admit it to himself but not only did the plan work, it was frakking genius. She could definitely have a future at the top, but knowing her, and yes he did, she wouldn't settle for less than having her own hand on the trigger.

He felt the presence of her head on his shoulder. Knowing she'd never do so willingly, he assumed she'd either up and died while he was off in his head or finally kept still long enough for her body to win the battle. Awkward at first, he moved his arm over her shoulders in a comforting, protective gesture. Knowing, even as he sat there doing it, that this would be the part they left out if they ever made it back with their stories. He'd always be glad he never had any children (he had no misguided notions about how awful a father he'd be), but there was attachment to the people he served with everyday, some he'd been with for year like Bill, but others….others were just kids.

The solemn moment attacked by sound from beyond the door. This was it.

That didn't take long at all.

"Starbuck." he woke her regretfully. "Show time."

Getting up, he helped her up to her feet, herself too busy trying to clear her head and get a handle to waste time denying his hand due to her pride. There were a few, by the sound of it; and they were in a hurry.

Quick to stand in front of her, speaking over his shoulder to the captain: "I'll do what I can to take the brunt. See a chance, you run like hell and don't look back." His words earning him a shove from his back.

"Real frakking noble, but I've handled myself just fine so far without your help."

"Really? Looks more like you've been handled."

"Frak you!" she hissed. Then silence as they braced themselves for it. Whatever they were preparing to do on the other side, they were making a lot of noise. "If I don't…"she began, trailing off, "…tell the Old Man-"

"I'm not your message service." he interrupted her. "Whatever you got to say, you say yourself Thrace. Got me?"

Another few seconds; something was off. Smoke? So her nose still worked; small blessings. But smoke? What were the bastards doing now?

"What the hell?" his voice asking out loud what she thought in her head. Then: "Get down!"

He shouted at her, shoving her down hard. Pain erupting brand new, white hot intense, as she hit the ground, the white haired man landing atop her. His aged body covering hers as the explosion roared, the door jetting over their heads, skidding and scraping along the floor just past them. Screeching to a stop.

Rolling over, as soon as his weight lifted, to her back, she swallowed hard the rising attack of bile. Looking up through glazing eyes, expecting to see a horde of inbound toasters. Instead the blurred face that spoke:

"Oh my Gods, Captain?!"

For a moment, in the thick, thick fog of pain, she swore the voice was Samuel. But he'd never call her 'Captain'. Not seriously anyway. Oh yeah, and he was dead. Couldn't forget that part.

Somewhere in it all, she was aware of her arm being slung across a set of shoulders and being pulled from the floor.

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	15. X Amount Of Words

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The knock on the heavy metal came, attacking his isolated atmosphere. He muttered rough words to the empty room before speaking loudly to the door:

"Frak off!" laying his head back down the pillow. The pillow next to the unused identical one. It used to be hers. Her smell was fading from it. From her clothes. It was fading….She was fading.

The knock again; a sharp rapping on the metal.

"Son of a bitch!" he growled angrily, rolling off the rack, kicking an empty bottle on the floor as he did. Making his way to the door, he pulled it back ready to tell off and bash in whoever wouldn't take the hint and get the hell away.

"Oh." he voiced when facing his visitor. "Admiral, what do I owe the pleasure?"

The bald man speaking sarcastically to his oldest friend before he turned to walk from the hatchway, allowing the man entrance if he so wished.

"Saul." he greeted in his familiar gruff sound as he stepped over the threshold.

"So," he began, sitting down at his table in front of a bottle that still had some of the precious liquid inside of it. "can I offer you a drink?"

"Think you've covered that for the both of us." his aged voice responded after taking in the appearance of the man as well as the condition of his quarters. He knew his statement to be more than accurate.

"You're here to judge me?" he asked defensively, his friend sitting down across from him. "Big surprise. I like the bottle. So what?"

"I'm not here to judge your grief Saul." he told him honestly. He knew the man was having an extremely difficult time with his wife's death. Bill, himself, didn't know the details on Ellen's death, but he saw the devastation it had on him. "I haven't seen much of you lately. How are you holding up?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy-frakking-keen." he responded, pausing a moment to knock back a shot he poured for himself. After swallowing the burning drink, his words became serious, his remaining eye watering just enough that he had to hold back the tears. "It gets harder, Bill. Everyday, waking up is harder than the day before. Everyday she's harder to find. Her smell…it's disappearing. She's disappearing."

"I know there aren't any words to make it easier. I won't patronize you with the platitudes, Saul." Adama spoke, knotting his fingers together. "All I'm going to tell you is to take all the time you need." he promised him. "Whenever you're ready, you're job is there. You're the XO of this ship."

Tigh nodded before tipping back another glass of delicious poison. Letting the burn erase the vulnerable moment, he put back on the rough edged armor. Squinting his eye, he voiced allowed his thought.

"There's more." he stated, pouring another portion of the drink for himself. If Bill wasn't going to partake, he'd drink his share just fine. Looking over, seeing what might be construed as a somewhat offended look on Adama's face, he continued. "Now I'm not saying you didn't come here with good intentions, or that what you said isn't true. I'm just saying there's more to this visit. Isn't there?"

"Yeah." he admitted. "There's more."

"Alright. What is it?" he asked. "I'm guessing you're not here to ask me to coach your new XO."

"I'm here about Kara." the Admiral admitted.

"Yeah." he replied before drinking the newest distribution he offered himself. "Thought so."

"You've heard what's happened?"

"Hard not to." he answered. "I barely leave this place and I've heard about it. Also hear Roslin's on the war path about it."

"She's pressing for some pretty harsh punishment." he informed.

"You ask me I say frak punishment. Give her a Gods damned medal for it." he suggested. "But what's any of this got to do with me?"

After sighing, the man offered an answer. "Roslin's willing to lean back if Kara talks to a psychiatrist and-"

"Starbuck see a shrink?" Tigh interrupted. "Feel sorry for the poor bastard you get to take a peek in that brain. She was a raving lunatic long before any of this went down." he retorted, keeping up his persona. And the way of the world, the world that was familiar and comfortable, Colonel Saul Tigh never missed a shot to jab at Captain Kara Thrace.

"If this doctor decides she's…" trying to think on how to say it, but realizing there was no way to say it that made it sound better than it was. "If he trusts it was a one time incident, she's not a danger to herself or anyone else, says she's _fit_" saying the word with a tinge of disgust. "to be released, Roslin will allow a more lenient approach."

"And?" he asked, encouraging him to continue.

"It hasn't been working." Adama stated firmly. Yes, she'd told him she'd try. Actually at this very moment, he knew Dr. Farrow was in fact on board to attempt another session. He also knew for a fact, that his son was not scheduled on any rotation at the exact moment so he would probably be witness to whatever events - be they helpful or catastrophic- the attempt brought on. He cleared his throat to focus back on his conversation. "She's not talking to him."

"Excuse me for saying, but did you actually think she would?" he asked cynically. "Gods Bill, even I know that's a bet you'll lose on."

Tigh took a moment to study just how much the man in front of him was struggling with the situation. It was like he was the one in lock-up. He knew Starbuck was the only person other than Lee that the Old Man would risk near anything for. Hell, he even put the fleet - the human race!- in jeopardy to search for the woman on that moon. Their relationship was definitely that of a father-daughter dynamic.

He saw in his eyes, it wasn't ignorance of who she was that had him trying this and hoping it would work…it was desperation. Desperation to help her, bring back the version he knew; or something new as long as it wasn't this tortured, ghost of a girl that now lived locked on the ship that should be her home. Looking at his best friend he thanked the Lords that he wasn't down on New Caprica to see it all with his own eyes what was happening. The man carried guilt like no other person he knew.

"I'm sorry Bill." he began. "I'm still not seeing how I fit into this mess."

"She asked to speak with you." he informed getting a surprised look from the man across the table. "It was a little while ago, during the first session with Dr. Farrow."

"Me?"

"You. I don't know what it was, if it's because you were both in detention on New Caprica, 'cause you were both in the resistance. Or if you went through something more specific together…"he didn't miss the way Saul looked away for a moment before coming back to his gaze at the last speculation. "But whatever the reason, she asked for you. And I guess I'm here to ask you to consider stopping by."

"Ah, Bill…" he began, uncertain starting to slowly shake his head. "I don't -"

"Just consider it." he asked, adding a silent please to his request as he stood from the table to leave. "I think you could help."

-

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-

She didn't look up.

The hinges on the door creaked as the aged metal gave passage through the way. She kept her eyes on the table top. Watching her index finger move over it. As if ink were slipping from the tip to mark the surface as it did. Though the image was unseen, was not really there in reality, she saw different.

In her mind's eye she saw the pattern. The one that she'd created and carried since she first remembered picking up a crayon box. She saw the flare of swirling edges; the reds and yellows and oranges bursting within it. She watched her stained finger slowly, invisibly, create and trace the familiar creation; even as he sat down in front of her. It had all her attention.

The pattern, she'd been doing it for so long, in so many places - notebooks, textbooks, napkins, in sand, the wall of her apartment - it was basically her default creation when wasting time or waiting for someone. She was always doodling it to the point that, in school, other students began to see it as a sort of calling card of hers. Finding it on lockers and bathroom stalls…Kara Thrace had been there.

"I was told you were ready to speak with me." he spoke from before her. He waited a moment for a response before starting in again. The same uncertainty in his voice she recalled from last time he sat in front of her. "They really want you out of…well, back out there, don't they? In the fight?"

Her eyes fixed on her still moving finger and the imaginary art only she was seeing. His gaze followed her line of sight, watching as she did. Noting the black still on her cuffed hands; a smudges of it on her arms and jaw, smears on her shirt.

"Paint?" he asked, still looking for his in with her. "I've, uh, never been much of an artist myself. Almost failed art in high school, actually." he began to ramble, to fill the silence until she would decide to contribute to it as well. "I know, who actually fails art? But any attempt at anything was just…" shaking his head"…Painting especially. It always ended up with all the colors mixing together in this gross mess of black. No matter what I tried to make or how it started out, in the end it was just that same mess of black on paper."

Starbuck finally stopped moving her hand. She had said she'd talk to the guy. So she had to find a way to do it if she ever wanted some semblance of her old life back. At least put forth the effort, show them she was willing to try.

" 'Art is the desire of a man to express himself. To record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.' " surprising Farrow and - she had no doubt he was present - the man watching the exchange.

"That was, um…" he began in response. "That was-"

"Lowell." she interrupted, finally flicking her eyes up to him.

"Right." he nodded. "I've heard of her, but I must admit I'm not familiar with her work."

"Black is not the combination of all colors. Black is the absence of color." she continued. "White is the highest intensity."

"Oh." drumming his fingers again. "I always thought it was-was the other way around. Since you start on a white piece you know?"

The blonde adjusted her position in the chair, knotting her fingers together and leaning forward on her elbows.

"Nope."

Another few moments, the man shifting his weight and touching the frame of his glasses without moving them; like he was just making sure they were still there. "You're quite knowledgeable…have you always been interested in -

"Are you…" she interrupted, "going to chat about paint all day or are you going to start asking the right questions?"

"Um…What," he nervously began, again taken back by her response. " What do you consider to be the right questions?"

"The tough ones; the dirty ones." she answered directly. "The ones that will get me the frak out of lock. Will you be asking any of those in this little pow-wow today."

"If I did…will you be answering?"

She sighed, "Listen Doc-"

"Please, Edwin." he interrupted to offer.

"Doc." she repeated sharply to his interruption before continuing with what she'd begun to say. "The way I know it, most of you shrink types are worse off in the head than your patients. And I've had more than a fair share of mind games and philosophical insights about what's good for me and my life." not to mention some sort of so called 'destiny' they wouldn't shut the hell up about. " So don't delude yourself to thinking me wanting out of this place means I'm about to crack open my skull to show you everything. So before you try walking around in my head, I gotta know you're not tracking dirt on your shoes. You get me?

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-

Watching on surveillance, after dismissing the regular viewers of the footage from the room, Lee studied the scene. He'd watched her, stare intently at the table, running her finger across the section of the surface while she waited for the doctor's entrance…and for some moments after. It seemed to him that this would be another uneventful display that further resigned the fate of the flightless pilot.

He hadn't even been looking at the screen when she finally spoke. Looking away with a sigh, thinking just that exact thought. Thinking to their conversation in the ring after their fight. Then her words lifted his head.

He'd known always she was not all she appeared. Well, a better explanation would be to say that, yes, she was everything she appeared….it just wasn't all she was. He'd always known that. Known she was brighter, deeper, far more than anyone else would ever suspect of her.

Hearing her quote Amy Lowell to this man, he was only reaffirmed in that knowledge; remembering years ago when she'd spun from memory the poetry of Cataris. Thankfully, that had only been the opening of the door as she'd since begun speaking more words to this man than had been anticipated.

Apollo kept his eyes fixed on the screen, watching as the man - he was supposed to be a brilliant doctor - didn't seem to grasp what it was she was saying to him.

-

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The thin man shook his head, smiling an awkward confused grin. "I'm sorry. I don't-I don't understand. What exactly are we talking about?"

"What we're talking about is that sort of sick, desperation in your smile." his grin fading at her words. "We're talking about what exactly your personality reaction is that all you've ever been able to record is a void absence of paper." leaning forward more as he fidgeted again, trying to find a job for his hands. "We're talking about pain, Doc." her next words almost a whisper. "Pain. . . You want to see mine? Show me yours."

-


	16. The Pros and Cons of Breathing

**A/N: I meant to put a little footnote at the end of the last chapter just to say that Amy Lowell is (or i guess the correct term is was) a real person. A poet who most definitely is not caprican or made up in any way. I just love that quote of hers so I gave it to Starbuck to say. Other than that the only thing I have left to say before starting is "Holy crap I can't believe there's only 4 episodes left! Sadness"**

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The place was chaos.

After initially landing back on the old ship, there were cheers and shouts, tears of joy and applause. Emotion was everywhere. She remembered it. The indescribable high after a victory; after pulling off an underdog completion of a desperate, dangerous mission. She remembered the feeling.

Now she was on the outside of it. Just a spectator to the heartswelling moment. She'd ducked in and out of it the whole ride back on the raptor, but as soon as they touched down on deck, she pulled herself into focus. Pulling away from the Colonel, he didn't object. Himself knowing what this meant for him, they parted on deck to each have their own personal moment back.

Standing - leaning - against the raptor at her back, she watched the masses celebrate. Thinking back to the last time she had that mission victory on this ship. In that very spot actually.

Coming back from Caprica, having rescued the survivors and brought them back to the human race. It was a moment not to be forgotten. They'd done what seemed impossible. A rescue unlike anything else ever accomplished or even attempted. The moment her feet hit the hard surface of the deck, she could barely keep herself from running to the Admiral.

Instead she kept her walk casual though the wide grin on her face was anything but. Sam at her side, the adrenaline of the win mixing with nerves and anxiousness as she introduced two parts of her world to each other. She'd felt so stupid...stammering the half spoken introduction.

Coming back to the present, the present in which she was the one who had to be rescued. She had no one to think of running to; not that literally running was on her body's agenda. She looked around, eyes picking familiar faces out of the crowd.

She saw Helo embracing his 'wife'. Smiling brightly as he held the machine tight in his arms. She saw Lee. Lee Adama, Commander of the now fallen Pegasus. Apollo. Her one time friend, one time wingman. In his arms the petite figure of his own wife. The woman looking even smaller in comparison to the weight the man had packed on.

Paired off, all of them. Everyone celebrating with everyone else.

She scanned the masses, searching, until she found him. Exchanging words with his best friend. The Old Man. The sixteen months or so since she'd seen him certainly made the name appear more fitting. The stress and -no doubt he felt- guilt of the situation had taken it's physical toll on the man.

He looked her way, his eyes locking with hers. Even from their distance and the loud sea of people between, they held eyes. Even now, she felt those wise orbs looking through whatever armor she could muster in her current state. She found herself suddenly wishing he'd make the journey towards her. That he'd cross the sea and come stand in front of her. Tell her it was ok. She was home now.

He had to, she realized, because if she wouldn't make it if she body now turned to match his eyes, facing her direction. She knew could tell, she knew he was getting ready to do just that. Then, just as it appeared he was about to take the first step, the eyes that held hers widened in surprise a second before his feet left the ground. Lifted up on shoulders. She looked down, their eye contact now broken and a roaring chant of _"Adama! Adama!"_ filled her ears.

Then it was done. Adama spoke in his booming voice a _'Welcome home!'_ and then disappeared. Returned to ...CIC?...she wasn't sure. Couldn't be sure.

Then another bout of chaos erupted brand new as Cottle, still in civilian clothes he wore planetside, gave orders to what was likely to every bit of medical personnel left alive; giving triage instructions before they nodded and began dispersing through the masses.

Looking at the steel floor under her feet, her mind began attempting to formulate how she was going to get through the day...or even the next few hours. She'd have to sleek off somewhere private she could assess herself. A hand on her shoulder, she looked up to, once again, see the Colonel at her side.

"Doc!" he hollered waving the aging major over to them.

"What the frak you doing?" she asked. Or rather, she wanted to ask, meant to ask. She wasn't sure how much of it actually made it out.

Cottle appeared before them without much difficulty cutting through the crowd. Stopping before them, his steps halting, his eyes glancing between the two. Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth he spoke, "So, how much of this is the Cylon's doing and how much is the two of you?" as he glanced at their respective visible injuries.

"Skip the cracks, Doc." Tigh replied. "You gotta take a look at her."

"I'm fine." she argued. "He's the one needs you." even as she forced the words out she knew what a liar she was.

"Frakking kidding?" Tigh asked. "Take a look at yourself, lately? The red stuff's supposed to be on the inside, Thrace."

"Not all mine."

She was being stupid...and she knew it. Sure she was aware that she'd apparently got some sort of treatment to clean her up for her heart to heart with the yet unaccounted for President of the Colonies, but it was obvious to her it was just the minimal amount. Just enough to prop up the show for the ignorance of the man. Even with that little 'gift', the fun only started up once again after the show was over. She needed to get checked out and fixed up without a doubt.

"For frak's sake." he growled before turning to the doctor. "Are you listening?" he asked Cottle who'd been ammusedly watching the exchange with puffs of smoke. "She can barely take a breath."

"And how's your depth perception since your eyes was ripped out?" she replied, sending attention to the most noteable of Tigh's battle wounds.

"Hey-"

"Alright knock it off, both of you." the doctor ordered. "Starbuck," focusing on her. He'd decided as soon as their debate started she was in more dire need of attention. He didn't just graduate med school yesterday. He had working eyes and yes, he had been listening and making speculations in his mind as he did so.

"I'm alright." she defied as expected. Which they both knew was a huge crock.

"Ok." Cottle replied to the lie; simultaneously reachin gin his pocket and pulling out his lighter. Opening it, he flicked the flame to life, holding it before her. "Blow it out."

"What?" she questioned confused. The strain of it all - standing, talking, keeping bravado and appearance- was showing. Muscles clenching and releasing repeatedly, fresh sweat breaking from her clammed skin.

"You can't blow it out from this distance, you're the lucky winner. Do it, I'll take the XO here back first."

Cottle observed with a stoic face, the Captain's eyes take a quick stock of the room around her. Looking around at the craziness of the floor to be sure no one would witness any possible failure on her part.

"Well come on, get on with it." He demanded, "Some people might actually want my help." After a final sideways glance towards the Colonel, who suddenly seemed extremely interested in the floor rather than watch, she steeled herself and made her attempt. The flame danced a bit above the lighter but remained alive nonetheless. The doctor brought the still living flame to a new cigarette before flipping it closed.

"Thought so." he spoke, pocketing the tool. "Alright, let's get you set with a gurney and get you to-"

"No." she interrupted protesting, clenching her jaw tight enough to break her teeth.

"Gods, damnit how much more proof do you need?" Tigh demanded angrily.

"I'll ..."she cut herself off, bringing her right arm to tuck under her breasts, favoring the screaming bones underneath as adrenaline began to give way. Doing what she could to part from it - just a little bit longer. That's all she needed. - she forced out the rest of her words. "I'll go. But ...I'm not get...getting wheeled off like some..."

"Alright, alright." Cottle spoke up. "Follow along, however you plan to manage that. Just do yourself a favor and shut the hell up before you hit the deck. Then you won't have much choice how the hell you get there."

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"Well," the old man's cigarette breath began muttering inches from his face. "it's definitely gone."

"Thanks for your expert analysis, Doc." he retorted as the Major backed away from the empty socket.

It had been roughly three or four hours since they'd landed back on Galactica for the first time and things were finally beginning to quiet down a bit. Now Tigh was sitting on the thin mattress in his own little curtained area in sickbay, enjoying his turn.

"Just pulled it out, huh?" Cottle asked, taking off his gloves. "Use any tools or instruments?"

"Ripped it right out with hishand. Held itup to show me, then dropped it and stepped on it." he recalled, the feeling something he could expectedly never forget. "Looked like a Gods damned boiled egg."

"No sign of infection. It's a clear job if it's any consolation." knowing it wasn't. "I'll pack it, get you a patch. Other than looking like a pirate, you'll be fine."

"Terrific." he answered sarcastically as Cottle pulled back the curtains to get the necessary items. The removal of teh curtain revealed to Tigh the rest of the area.

Specifically, he looked across the way to another visible 'room'. Her curtain pulled back, too, as a medical staffer moved about the area.

"How's she doing?" he questioned, nodding in the direction.

Looking where his current patient gestured, Cottle answered simply, "Alive."

The old doctor recalling the way the shield of armor deteriorated to nothing once the curtain seperated her from any other eyes. Remembered the image; the pilot basically collapsing, only the gurney she managed to grab onto kept her from hitting the floor.

Unfortunately he couldn't do as she immediately asked, no demanded, - _Knock me out. Frak! Just knock me out!_- right away. He needed her awake to answer questions, make as clear an assessment on her status as possible; so her pained words had to be denied for the time being. After getting all the strained replies he could, he made sure to do as she'd begged. Sedating her as soon as possible.

"How bad?" the one-eyed man's voice bringing back his focus.

"They definitely worked her over." he answered staying vague. Skimming the list mentally. A few of the notes being the four broken ribs, punctured lung, the knee, not to mention the collage of gashes on her back. And that was only naming a few. "Had to go in for some internal repairs. Some infection to deal with. It looks as though some of the wounds were treated." he mused out loud before asking his next question. "Were you given any sort of medical attention in there?"

"Depends, if it's in their interest to keep you alive another day." he answered, hand absentmindedly going to the empty hole where his eye should be. "Thing to understand, Doc, is you didn't die until they wanted you to."

The doctor nodded, before he suddenly had to turn back in her direction as the crashin gsound of the nurse hitting the instrument tray reached his ears. He saw Ishay scrambling back to her feet and excused himself with a gruff word before rushing over.

"Damn it, Ishay." he declared as he passed her without breaking stride towards the violent pilot who'd managed to shove the woman to the floor"I told you to be careful." He spoke annoyed as he approached the screaming patient.

"Get the frak-" Starbuck's outburst, words of pain and panic and anger, faded as Cottle administered the clear ingredients of the syringe.

Turning around after checkin the woman's breathing and heartrate were calmed, Cottle caught sight of the Admiral of the fleet standing just outside sickbay. He sighed to himself, knowing Bill would be wanting a full account of the examination.

"Pick up this mess." he ordered Ishay before walking towards the Admiral.

Arriving in front of the man he lit another new cigarrete before speaking.

"Don't suppose you're here for a check up."

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	17. Versions of Violence

**A/N: So a friend of mine mentioned that she was slightly annoyed that I made a point in ONE chapter to mention that all titles are from song titles and only in the one chapter did I say who sang the song. She demands I let her know who it is with each installment. If enough people want, I'll make it a point to mention from now on. If you don't care, meh...i'll just give her the heads up then. **

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**"**Do you know why you're here?"

"Because Dad felt a tickle and Mom opened wide." the brash response hitting it's mark; the doctor visibly put off by the statement.

"Ok." Farrow spoke uneasily, attempting to shake off the vulgar remark and attempting to continue, knowing she would most definitely be giving him as a hard a time as she found possible. "Fair enough." clearing his throat. "Do you know why you're currently in custody under Marine guard?"

"Yes." no sarcasm or wit; just the short answer.

Yes, she was very aware of why she currently lived where the cylon had once. Why her hands - black stained fingers knotted together on the table - were once again, and often, joined by metal cuffs.

"Good." he answered, scribbling a quick note on the pad before him. She could imagine it was some fancy medical termed way of saying she wasn't completely out of touch with herself or something to that affect. "Can you tell me why?"

"I'm sure you've been given the highlights." she mused. "Everyone in the frakking fleet probably knows by now."

"Miss Thrace-"

"Captain." she hissed interrupting him.

"Captain." he amended. "Sorry, Captain Thrace. But hearing your....perspective or-or recollection of the what's happened allows me to assess your ability to comprehend what's happened. To establish the state of mind at the time of the incident."

"Incident." she muttered to herself almost in a whisper. She almost chuckled at it. That's what they're calling it.

She realized, after a moment within herself, that Farrow was still talking to her. Still explaining why he wanted her take on 'the incident.'

"Do you know why you're here?" the wingless pilot asked him once he finally shut up.

"I'm here to give a professional-"

"No." she interrupted his repeat of the textbook response he'd tried giving her a second ago. "Answer the question."

"I'm attempting to."

"Come on, Doc." Starbuck spoke. "Remember now, pain for pain. Why would someone so clearly uncomfortable in military surroundings agree to come on a battlestar daily? Because...what? They ask nicely? Threaten you?"

Clearing his throat, he looked down at his hands for a moment. His voice directed at her though speaking to the table. "Will you answer my question?"

"Pain for pain." she spoke again. "Scout's honor. Why did you really agree to come here?"

It was another handful of quiet seconds, the man closing the cap over his pen and setting it down on the paper. He then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before setting the frames down as well. Knotting his fingers together he began to speak in a quiet voice.

"I...was on New Caprica, I settled there with everyone else. During the occupation, I kept my head down; kept my mouth shut. Which you probably have already guessed. I didn't rock the boat or do anything to get noticed, by Cylon or human. I stood on the sidelines and let everything happen around me; to people around me. There was a young man, a fighter for the resistance, he lived in the tent next to mine. I heard them come for him, one night, the sound of a struggle and his wife screaming for someone to help..."he shook his head. "When I was approached to take your case I thought of it as a chance to make up for it. Since I didn't do anything to help the resistance, or anyone, when it was needed most, I thought helping someone who had would assuage some of that guilt."

"So I'm your pennance?" she summarized none too impressed.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that." he answered quietly before clearing his throat yet again and reaching to put his glasses back on. "Now, if you would ..." uncapping the pen.

She stared at the man. She'd given her word. The woman suddenly wondered if they were still being watched by a set of Adama eyes. She knew one of them had been there at the very least in the beginning. No way was this going down without one of them present. She just didn't know which of them it was.

"I know why I'm here. I know what I did." she began. "I'm here because I bruised my knuckles on the Cylon's face."

"They cylon you're mentioning is Sharon Agathon, yes?"

"That's one of it's names, yeah."

"Do you remember doing it?" he prodded while writing.

"Yes."

"Describe the moments leading up to the...attack. From entering the gym to your apprehension by the marines."

She felt the twitch of the recently reformed muscles in her arm. She knew if she could, she'd happily deck this guy just to end the conversation. Starbuck did her best to listen to the voice in her head as it told her to calm down; to remember this was the only way; she gave her word to the Old Man to try.

She remained silent while she struggled to obey the voice. Finally, with a sigh, she mentally told it to frak off before speaking aloud.

"I go to the gym, ok? I go to do some free weights but Helo and...it were using them."

"Ms. Agathon?" he asked as he took notes.

"Yeah." she answered tightly, feeling the same angry twitch again.

"So I go to the first open thing I see. It's the heavy bag."

"Without gloves?"

"What?" she spoke confused and annoyed by the interruption. If he wanted to know he had to shut up and let her speak.

"In reports from several witnesses it states you weren't wearing gloves while using the bag."

"If that's what they say then I guess that's what happened, isn't it?" she answered curtly. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Continue."

"I'm...I'm going at the bag, and it's ok at first. Just a workout like I'd done day after day, over and over. But then I'm hearing them."

_"Come on Agathon." Helo teased his wife as he spotted her. "What's the matter, too much weight?_

_"I'm going to kill you Karl." his wife responded jokingly amused as she continued her workout._

"...and it's like...it's like she was standing right next to me. It was so loud."

_Hearing the banter between the two, Starbuck felt the fire breathing in her chest. The cylon's voice seemed to get louder and louder until it drowned out even the sound of the blood pumping in her ears. Until it was all she could hear._

_All the while, her fists flew hard and faster into the bag._

"...and then I could hear her laughing." she continued, her eyes, Farrow noticed, had shifted away from him; staring off into the memory. She, herself, was hardly away of the words falling from her mouth. "And it was...I heard it. That same laugh, I heard whenever it was it's turn to...it always laughed. Hearing it I -" she cut herself off a moment before the words resumed tumbling out. "...it was like i was there again. I was there and it was laughing and I...I don't know how long it went on but..."

_Across the room, Helo happened to glance upwards away from his wife to see everyone else - save he and Sharon - was staring at soemthing. Everyone quiet and watching entranced by the intense activity at the bag. The only sounds left in the room were the sounds coming from that corner._

_Realizing what it was, or rather who, that they were watching, he began his way in that direction. Then, noticing for the first time, the absence of the protective gloves on his friends' hands and the presence of smeared red on the bag itself. He was panicked and furious at the spectators for simply watching._

_"Hey Starbuck." he tried as he closed in on her. "Starbuck." still she carried on as if unaware of anything but the bag. "Kara?" close enough now he put his hand on her shoulder._

"Then something grabbed me and I saw one of them."

_Screaming, she changed direction and immediately went on the offensive."_

"I didn't know it was Helo." she confessed, the words weighted by exactly how true the statement was. By the guilt she felt for it. "I didn't. And I ..."

The intercom buzzed suddenly over head, calling for Major Adama. The disembodied voice rippin gher out of the memory and making her painfully aware of how much she'd divulged to the mousy man who spoke up after the words in the air died away.

"So you were unaware, at the time, what exactly you were doing and who you were doing it to?"

"No." squaring her shoulders visibly reaffirming her demeanor. "By the time I was hitting 'Sharon," saying the name in an icy voice of distaste, " I knew exactly what I was doing."

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Hearing his name spoken out over the comm, Lee tore his eyes away from her for the first time. The words, the moment, halted instantly by the reality that spit over the intercom. Putting his palms flat on the table ahead of him, he leaned forward, hanging his head for a few seconds and listend to her next words.

_"I knew exactly what I was doing."_

Hearing her say, again, that she meant what she'd done to Sharon was a bittersweet pill to swallow. She was aware, even if not at first. But admitting to being aware and doing it anyway. Being so violently viscious on purpose, it wasn't something the president would forgive or forget anytime soon if ever. True, Kara didn't have the tightest reign on her emotions, but of the things he knew about her, Lee knew one thing above all others as fact: Kara was a born pilot.

Yes, he had the skill and the love for it. But he knew his passion for it was endlessly paled by hers. She thrived on it. On the freedom it gave her. The Kara he knew - but how long has it been since he's known her? - wouldn't do something that could deprive her of that freedom for more than maybe a day spent in the brig. And that was exactly what she'd done. Jeopardized her chances of getting that back...ever, it seemed, if Roslin had the final say.

But who could really pass judgement on what happened? Who, among them, had been through, moment for moment, what she had? Yes, others had been detained. But every experience was different. everyone had unique scars to prove it. Perfect examples:

Saul Tigh was minus one eye and hadn't been seen outside his quarters for longer than it took to go to the head. The president, herself, had spoken of being detained just after the first suicide bombing. And she was walking around, comfortably back in her old roll. The there was Kara Thrace; the untouchable Starbuck. Before his eyes.

Three different people. Three experiences. How can any one person judge another? Who got to determine the 'proper' way to deal?

"Pass along to Major Adama." the intercom buzzed again. "Major Adama to CIC."

Groaning, wondering what part of his schedule he'd neglected to stay there as long as he had, he took a last glance. Looking between the recording video screen to the two way pane where he could see a clearer view of her. He hated to leave, but he knew he had to. He shouldn't have been there as long as he had. But what's done is done. Just had to go face, now, whatever it was he'd done or not done.

Running a hand down his face, he turned to leave. . . but stopped.

Puttin ghis hands on his hips, he sighed and looked towards the floor. Then turned just his head to look back into the room; to look at her.

"Damn it!" he hissed to himself.

Walking the length of the room once, then back again, all the while telling himself he had to get the hell out of there. It was just so damn difficult to walk away from this...from her. Lee still felt a level of bitterness when he thought of their night together on New Caprica, specifically the following morning. Regardless, he just couldn't leave her to do this on her own, whether or not she was aware of his presence, he had to think he offered some kind of support simply by bearing witness.

Groaning again, fighting the inner battle; to stay, to go. He knew he had to force himself to exit. He had to do his job. Had to get to his life.

And it wasn't just _his_ life, he had a ... wife.

His feet halted as he suddenly realized why he was most likely being summoned. Checking his watch and cursing again he was able to finally get his legs to take him all the way to the door, leaving quickly before he had a chance to stop again.

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	18. The Last Something That Meant Anything

**A/N: Well here we are. I wrote this chapter thursday, watched the finale friday, and am typing it on a train saturday. . . It's the next day and I'm still digesting not only what happened and how it ended, but mainly the fact that...IT ENDED. Meaning no more. No next season. No next episode. My heart is full and broken at the same time. As I've stated before, i've had the direction of this and where and how this story would end all mapped out and planned since the first chapter. While there may appear to be some influences from the canon story, I will not stray from my own set out path. **

**A/N2: Just have to acknowledge them because I, like many others, loved the characters and was stung by their passing: **

**Laura Roslin**

**Kara "Starbuck" Thrace**

**Samuel T. Anders**

**Margaret "Racetrack" Edmunson**

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Pain.

It was the first thing that registered to her as she felt herself coming around to consciousness. But, by now, she was used to the pain. It meant she was, in fact, alive. And by what she was feeling she could say without a doubt that 'Yes' she was very much alive.

She felt as though she were laying on a bed of white hot nails. Her mind, however, noticed a positive fact that breath was coming easier than it had for a very long time. Other than that, in taking mental stock she listed to herseslf before even opening her eyes. Her stomach held a dull ache, her head was pounding and it felt like some bastard had hammered a spike through her knee and left it there.

Despite this inventory, at the forefront of her mind were those nails; her back was on fire. Why was she lying on her back? She'd stopped doing that - had to - once the lashes started. Had stopped for this very reason. Arching it slightly, just enough to lift it off the surface for a moment, she felt the flaming prick of all those nailes and needles in ever slice. She had to get off her back. Beginning to move, to raise her hand for leverage, she felt it abruptly stopped; and not by her choice.

This disturbing find had her eyes splitting open in an instant. Immediately looking at herself, she saw she was in a bed; in a gown. A needle-ended tube stuck in her skin and taped to her arm, an identical one on the back of her hand.

Her locked hands.

Restraints. Cuffs.

What was this? What happened? She heard the increasingly rapid beeping from her bedside as her heart sped up and alerted the machine at the end of the sensors stuck to her chest. Trying to piece together what could've happened;what was the last thing she remembered. But her mind wasn't cooperating, it was panicking with the rest of her. What were they doing this time?

She jerked her hands, balled into fists as she attempted to fight the restraints holding them to the bed rails.

"What the frak?" she asked angrily to herself in the curtained off area, her mind, like her heart, racing.

What was this? Experiments? A farm? Was that it? They were done "questioning" her so it was off to the farm? No way.

No _frakking_ way! She swore she'd die first. Even made Sam agree to shoot her dead before it happened again. She would frakking die before she let it happen!

She fought again. Jerking her arms and body; twisting and trying to break free from the restraints. Cursing, breathless by her panicked and fear driven efforts. She was seconds from screaming when she heard the curtain slide open.

"No." she muttered to herself. The doctor, the Simon, he was coming. They were going to..."No. No, no, no!"

"Starbuck." it touched her. Leverage against her shoulder trying to push her back down.

"No! Stay the frak away from me!"

"Damn it, Starbuck, look at me." his voice ordered. "Captain, look at me!" he demanded.

Something about the way he said it, sounding authorative and wartorn. Her eyes obeyed on their own and saw that what had been the black cylon doctor was now the white haired, wrinkled major actually standing before her. Upon seeing the spark of recognition he spoke again, calmer yet with thge same authority in his voice.

"Stay with me, now. Slow breaths, in and out. Let's go, in...and out." Cottle observed carefully as his patient began to follow his commands. "There you go. Listen up; hear me carefully, really listen, got it?" he instructed before starting again. "You are on Galactica, you hear? You're in sickbay on Galactica." he spoke carefully with timed, certain words making sure they got through. He let a few moments pass while he glanced to the monitor to watch the beeps slow to a more acceptable rhythm. "Alright. Now, do you know where you are?"

"Why am I tied up?" she asked quickly, still trying to calm herself. In and out. In and out. She saw his mouth begin to move and had the distinct feeling he was about to repeat himself, she spoke up first. "Sickbay. Galactica, I heard you." In and out. "Now why the hell am I tied up?"

"You've been in and out, now about fifty hours. You kept flipping out, attacking the staff if they were unlucky or stupid enough to get too close during one of the awakenings. Last little outburst of yours tore open some surgical stitches and gave one of my orderlies a pretty impressive bruise on his jaw. Had to put soft restraints to keep you from causing yourself more damage or killing one of my staff. Undoing the straps around her wrists as he spoke. "Whichever came first."

Once her hands were free, she brought them up to wipe at some sweat and -she wouldn't admit it - fearful tears that had slipped out to her face during her panicked state. Licking her dry lips, she closed her eyes under her hands and grimaced. "My back."

"Yep." his response. "I'm betting that's hurting pretty bad." she nodded, laying her hands down on her stomach. "Well, I don't suppose I have to tell you what happened back there. Dressed the wounds, but with the post op, can't have you laying facedown after we just cut into your stomach. Sorry, but the choice between the two, gotta put the internal care first."

"Yeah." she muttered in agreement.

"Best I can do for you right now is give you something for the pain." he offered, gesturing to someone to come over, presumably with the promised drugs.

"Yeah." again as he poked the tip of the needle into the plastic tubing that would take it to his patient.

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"Captain." Cottle greeted the man as he came across him in the sickbay.

"Doc." he answered back, pausing a moment before opening his mouth to ask the same question he'd been asking the man for two days.

"She's awake." he answered before the question was voiced aloud. "You're free to visit but tread softly. The last thing we need is Starbuck trying to kill people from her bed again. We'll only get lucky so many times before she'll succeed."

"Yes sir." he answered with a relieved grin at the announcement that he could see her.

He'd been by wanting to hear that exact answer every few hours since things had settled down. Every free moment he had he'd made the trip over hoping it would be the time he got a new answer. But, until now, each time he'd hit some sort of wall. She was in surgery, post op recovery, or she was out cold or recovering from one of the many violent outbursts that came with the brief awakenings.

Closing the distance to the designated area, his steps slowed; stopping completely a moment just outside the curtain. Yes, he was slightly nervous to see her for the first time in a long time. Especially after knowing - not in any sort of detail - she'd gone through every level of hell in the time they'd been apart. Then he looked, confused and cautious, at the material offering the veil of privacy, hearing strange noises from the other side ; grunts and groans. He glanced momentarily in the direction he'd come - the direction Cottle had gone - wondering if he should bring the old man back over.

Hearing the new sound of something metal crashing into the floor, he quickly faced forward again and took the briefest moment to brace himself before pulling the dividing cloth apart.

"Kara!" he blurted her name in shock at the scene he found. Her torso angled out of the bed, hands braced flat on the steel floor. Only the right leg, encased in an immobilized brace from mid-thigh to about half way down the calf, remained awkwardly straight on the mattress

"Gods, Kara." he spoke quickly moving to her side. "What the hell happened?" he asked, putting his large hands around her to lift her carefully back to the bed. "Did you fall?"

"Let me go, Helo." she stated from the awkward position; fighting his hands as best she could.

"What? Come on." he answered, adjusting for a better grip against her minor struggle before he was able to life her; realizeing then how light his friend had become. After gently placing her back down, he spoke again. "What the hell happened?"

"I have to go."

"Go?" he repeated confused, this was hardly what he expected. Granted, he didn't really know what - if anything at all - he was expecting, but this was definitely throwing him for loops. "Go where? Kara, you had major surgery two days ago. Infection. Fever. Your back. Y-Your frakkin leg." he listed off. "Frak. What's so important you're going to tear yourself up again getting there?"

She didn't answer right away which prompted him to probe his friend of many years. This time in a much gentler tone.

"What is it Kara?"

"Karl..." she began; her voice almost a whisper, her uncertain eyes looking up and down and anywhere but his own before she finally spoke with the same quiet voice. "...it's Sam."

The man felt his throat tighten at the obscure confession. He'd gone over the manifests with Lee and the Admiral and had noticed that Anders was not seen on any ship after the exodus. After asking around, asking people who'd been in the insurgency, Helo had learned that the man had disappeared about two weeks after his wife had.

"What about him?" he questioned cautiously.

"He's..." _dead_, she finished silently. "...I have to find a picture; a good picture. Have to put it up." with her admission she began her attempts to exit again, even though she knew not only would Cottle be royally pissed with her, but that it would most likely cause more hurt than help. But Helo's hands on her shoulders again stopped her.

"There's time for that later." he stated. "There's plenty of time for that later. Ok? You focus on yourself right now. On getting better. Don't worry about it right now. Just - "

"No.'" she interrupted. "If you're so worried, you can help. You can make sure I don't kill myself. But if I have to crawl on my frakking stomach, I'm going."

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"Easy, easy." he instructed concerned.

Holding on to her, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist as he walked at a slow pace along her right side. The braced leg, stiff on the immobilized knee, between the two of them. Helo did his part acting as a crutch, keeping her from putting weight on it - they didn't know the extent of anything going on there just yet. All the while keeping an eye on her for any red flags that would have him sprinting her back to Life Station.

"If I get in trouble for this..." he began teasing.

"Shut up." she voiced, breathlessly at his side. The trip a harder one then she anticipated, even with the big man's help. Truth be told he was doing most of the work.

One hand across her friend's shoulders, the other gripping tightly to the photograph he'd brought to her. It'd taken some time for him to find one that wasn't some posed shot from a magazine or trading card. All those that he'd brought she'd immediately refused. She didn't want it to be something set up and multiplied a dozen times over to sell issues or packs of cards. She wanted something real...and he'd found her one finally.

It'd actually come from Cally's collection of captured moments. A shot from the nighttime celebration following the groundbreaking ceremony. The man - healthy, vibrant and happy - sat at a table, a shot glass in hand. Raising it in a toast towards the camera. He obviously knew, unlike the blonde in the picture, that it was being taken. The Kara in the image was at his back; leaning down, arms hanging down over his chest, head laid on his right shoulder, her face towards his neck. It wasn't captured to be happening, but looking at it, you'd assume the woman was simply placing a kiss on the neck of her lover.

A beautifully captured moment where she stood without wall or guard. Frozen in time, she simply was - and allowed herself to be open and happy and all things Starbuck wasn't.

He could feel the sharp jab in his side from her hip and again found himself thinking on how much weight she'd lost since she'd gone planetside. "Almost there." he assured as they moved at their slow, slow pace. She nodded silently, her grip on his shoulders tightening. This little journey was taking a toll on her and he could see it. "You ok? I can take you back."

"I'm fine." she answered in a tight voice. "Come on."

After turning the next corner, they were there. The memorial that had only grown and grown since that first day. Their progress halted before he looked to her.

"Do you know where?"

"There." she gestured, after a moment, to a section of wall. Using her friend as a crutch they moved towards her selected destination. Once close enough, she took her arm from the man.

"Got it?"

"Yeah." she answered, feeling his hands loosen and linger a few moments to ensure that she would be able to stay upright before they disappeared completely from her body. Balancing her weight completely on her left leg she took a moment just to stare at the image in her hand. "Could you , uh...could you give me a minute?"

"Yeah." he answered easily. Of course. Stepping back then turning away. Leaving his friend alone while at the same time not wandering too far off.

She studied the man in the picture. The bright, sparkling eyes, the cocky grin he owned. Sniffing back tears, she stuck it in place. Manuevering herself, laying one hand flat against the wall, totally disrespecting the pictures and memories beneath it -_Sorry­_- she leaned her weight on it and leaned in closer. With her free hand, she traced her fingers over the structred line of his jaw. Then over his smile. The curves of his arms.

"Hey Sammy." she whispered; almost smiling, knowing how he disliked the nickname. Not wiping the tears away just yet, she continued. Still tracing her fingertip over his features as she spoke with unsteady words. "It's, uh, It's not right; me being here and you..." she trailed off, still feeling incapable of saying it out loud. Licking her lips, tasting the salt of fallen tears on them, before speaking again. "It wasn't worth it, Sam. Looking for me; finding me. It...I wasn't worth it. I'm sorry. For all of it."

Pressing two fingers to her lips, she touched those same fingers to face on the wall.

"I'll be seeing you." she finished quietly, able to crack the smallest of smiles for him, before she began wiping the remnants of tears from her face.

"Helo." she called out, knowing he wasn't too far off. She was proven right by how quickly she felt his presence at her side, then the touch of his hand on her shoulder. Without moving her eyes from the photo she spoke again to her friend. "Promise me, when I go, you'll make sure I - "

"What makes you so sure you're going first?" he questioned before she could finish the sentence.

"Just promise." she instructed; turning now to look at him, revealing to him the sincerity and importance of the request with her sharp eyes.

"I promise."

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**A/N3: **

**I wrote the "be seeing you" line feeling like it was something the character would say in the situation. and felt all the more sure of that with anders' last line. **


	19. Carve Your Heart Out Yourself

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"I'm sorry."

His apology went without response. He was given only silence from her as she met his eyes briefly before returning them to the Comm Station in front of her. Leaning against the equipment that divided them, the Major glaced over his shoulder. Suspicious, paranoid, that someone was listening to their conversation...or lack of one. He lowered his voice to a quiet almost whisper before addressing his wife again.

"Dee, I'm sorry." he spoke sincerely again.

"I don't want you to be sorry, Lee." she finally answered, her words as quiet as his but with a sharp edge. "I want you to be somewhere when you say you're going to be there." she focused back on her unit a moment, as if to return to work, but instead spoke again with tired frustration. "It was your idea;your plan. Arrange your schedule to match our mess time together so we could, for one frakking day, spend some time as a married couple. Am I wrong? I mean, am I remembering it wrong, Lee, or was it your idea?"

"No, you're right." he replied quickly, stung by the truth of his mistake. "It's been so damn crazy since New Caprica, I-"

"Yes, Lee." she interrupted, forcing her voice to keep at a sensible volume. Their marriage and whatever problems involved in it were not the business of the CIC. But damn it if the Old Man, her father-in-law, hadn't paged his son to come talk to her; certain some personal matter was clouding her head and distracting her from her work.

"I'm well aware of how crazy it's been. Crazy enough that we barely spend more than half an hour in the same room unless we're both in here on duty." she continued. "Sometimes that's even including sleeping in the same frakking bed."

"I know, I know. "he nodded guiltily. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"Unless you're too busy with Kara next time too?" she asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. She watched his face change; first struck surprised then hardened in prepartion to go on the defensive.

"That is not fair." he spoke curtly. Maybe it sounded like a school yard response, but it was true. Keeping careful control of the volume of his words, he continued. "I've got a lot on my plate, everything in fact. And, yeah, some of my time has been and will continue to be occupied by Kara. But I'd think that's understandable given the situation. Don't make this about her."

She fixed her gaze on the unit she could station with her eyes closed. Even after being away from it, being on Pegasus all that time, hadn't changed that. Coming back to it, it was like she'd never been away. Speaking slowly at first, she addressed her husband of over a year.

"I'm not insensitive to what's happened, Lee. Or to what's happening now." her words honest. "I've lived on this ship too. These people are my family too. Believe me or not I care about what happens to every single soul on board: including Starbuck. But the difference between me and you is that with everything going on, all of it, I was still in the mess on time today. I still made you - made us - the priority."

"I'm sorry, alright. I'm sorry I forgot our plans. I'm sorry I left you waiting." saying the word for what felt like the millionth time. "I'll apologize for that over and over again, but...If you're going to make this about her, I'll tell you right now, I'm never going to apologize for wanting to help her." his eyes looking away from hers a moment as he searched for the words that could explain it. Words he knew he wouldn't find; he hadn't yet, in all the years since he'd met Kara he could never find any words in any language that could explain any part of them. "I just...I wish I could make you understand."

"If you can't see that this has always been about her," she sighed, "you're the one who doesn't understand."

She watched him, watched him absorb her statement before effectively ending their conversation and any hope of continuing it soon.

"I've got work to do."

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The turning of a key, the sound of the tumblers clicking into place, roused her from the light sleep she'd managed to fall into. A short time of the nap-like slumber was enough to trick her body into believing it was getting all the rest it needed. At least it had worked so far.

Allowing herself to sleep any deeper, any longer, ran the major rish of the nightmares. The memories and flashbacks mixed with figments her mind contributed to them. And along with those the possibility of losing touch with reality...again.

Two risks she'd much rather keep from taking. She couldn't believe how easily she'd simply poured out the recollection to Farrow. Something else she'd be sure to be wary of from now on.

She felt the vibration in the steel floor at her back that reminded her that someone was entering.

"You know, it's not a habit of mine to make housecalls for just anybody." the voice spoke. "The least you could do is sit up."

The rough voice of the doctor served as another reminder; of the schedule she'd had before the 'incident' as they called it. Among the light maintanence shifts she was able to get, she had Cottle's follow-ups. Annoying trips to Sick Bay so he could stare and poke and criticize and finally end every meeting by telling her 'Not yet.' and sending her on with her day; another flightless day or week or longer.

"I don't let anyone manhandle me the way you do." she replied as she sat up on the floor. "The least _you_ can do is have a different answer today."

"We'll see about that." he told her though he knew no matter what his answer to her question - the same she'd been asking him for some time now - it didn't much change her fate at the moment. If he gave her a nod to fly, she'd still be in the cell. Still without wings. It wasn't his call to make, that duty belonged to someone else for now.

"Come on." he instructed. "Up here, let's have a look."

Standing up, she looked resentfully at the mattress he'd gestured her to sit on. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel a hatred for an inanimate piece of furniture. But it was where it led her. The thinsg she was forced to think about because of it. She hadn't touched it since her relocation there.

"Let's go." he hurried her. "I do have other things to do today."

Reluctantly, she sat on the edge of it; it felt like any other standard military issue mattress. Sitting on it, she found herself wondering if they'd even bothered to change the sheets since letting the Cylon out. Mentally shaking her head, doing her best to push the disturbing thoughts away, she went about the routine for the visits. Rolling up her pant leg and sliping off the support sleeve that covered the knee.

She was grateful, maybe one of the few people that actually was, for Cottle's stern bedside manner; that it extended to his small talk or more specifically his lack of it. The man made no attempts to have pointless chatter while he worked. He spoke only what was necessary while inspecting the area.

One aged hand held the leg around the calf while the other palm flat over her kneecap as he guided her movement; extending the leg straight out in front of her.

"Any pain or discomfort?" he asked, waiting to start speaking again until after she shook her head at the question. He shook his own head in response. "If you want a different answer you're going to have to give me one too. I can't make a true assessment without honesty. It's especially important for this." he patted the palm over the joint. "How many times is this now, three?" Too much too soon after all it's been through already and I can guarantee you that number four can have you glued to a desk job for life."

He pause watching his words hit their mark. It was true and it was the only way to get an honest answer fromt he stubborn woman. Most people would have enough sense of self-preservation to be honest with a doctor about the seriousness of their situation, but not this one.

Cottle found himself suddenly recalling a time, long before this never-ending battle to survive began. It was late and ther ehad been some incident during a raptor repair. He didn't know the details other than the obvious fact that the damn thing blew right there on the deck. Because of the hour, there had only been a few people in the area at the time - or it could've been a lot worse.

It was long ago byut he could still remember, vividly, the surprising sight of Starbuck, a gash the length of his open hand jetting across her forehead like a razor's salute and the blood that freshly poured down and over her features from it. Dragging an unconscious deck hand his way as he stood outside Life Station while he waited for the medical alert to bring him back the wounded from the accident. Apparently the gurney wasn't getting there fast enough for her liking to get the kid to his care. helping to lift the rookie knuckle dragger onto a bed once she'd made it there. When approached by a member of his team, she dismissed him; knocking the man's hands away as it came to inspect the wound. Swearing it a scratch - _A good shower and a band-aid. No big deal_.

Bringing himself back to the moment, her still sitting quietly, still feeling the stinging truth of his words. He hoped she'd use his warning wisely.

"Now," repeating the action from a moment ago, he spoke. "any pain or discomfort?"

She wasn't sure how much time passed; how long Cottle had been there. Kara couldonly measure their time together in the number of postions he moved her into - extending, bending, turning, so forth - each time he spoke :_ 'Any pain or discomfort?'_

She answered honestly. A couple times by mistake; a wince she couldn't stop or a slight tensing of the jaw she couldn't hide. The time passed in her responses, in the grunts that came from him, the occascional muttering to himself she couldn't decipher, and the one word comments.

Some of them were even reassuring enough to spring the slightests of hope in her. Of course she quickly shoved it down and just let him go about his business.

"Alright." slowly letting go of the current stance he held the limb. The word signalling the end of the torment.

Sitting up on the mattress - at one point he instructed her to lie back for the last few stages. Hating it, loathing it in fact, she complied - Starbuck slid the black sleeve back up her leg until it settled around the joint.

"So..." she began as he scribbled his notes. "...what's the verdict?"

"It's good. Mobility, strength. It's all looking good." he wrote as he spoke the words, not looking at the patient.

"Good enough to fly?" the same question she'd been asking since released from Life Station. And his answer this time, as she'd wanted, was different.

"That's not my call." different, not really better and definitely not what she wanted to hear. "You've got your very own special doctor to make that suggestion to the higher ups who have the final say. You know that."

"I know. But I'm asking you. Physically would you give me the green to get in the cockpit?"

"Don't see why you want an answer so bad. It's a moot point afterall." he spoke, sounding as though he were avoiding giving her a straight answer. "Whether I say yes or no, you're still here. You're still flightless until they spring you anyway. I don't see how knowing what you could or couldn't be doing if you weren't -"

"Just answer the damn question." she interrupted his run around. Please, I just need to know."

"No! Ok?" he answered sharply. "Happy now? That make you feel better? It was all a waste of recycled air because the answer is no."

"But..." she trailed a moment, glaring at the man as several emotions boiled through her, "I don't understand. You said it was good. Strong."

"Good, not good enough." he replied. "Strong...not strong enough." he sighed before speaking again. "I'm sorry, Starbuck. The fact is you took a lot of damage and your body isn't ready for it yet. And I can't say when it will be."

Looking away from the doctor, she could only find herself shaking her head at the crushing words.

"Like I said, it doesn't change where you are now." he restated. "So knowing that you're not missing anything, you can focus getting yourself better by their standards. Get some rest."

Heading for the door, taking his notes and whatnot with him, he stopped just before the marine opened the entrance. Looking back at her a moment as if there was something more he wanted to say, but instead his mouth closed and his demeanor was that of reputation as he spoke his exiting words to her:

"You know you won't catch anything from the mattress." he spoke. "It wouldn't be any sort of surrender to sleep on something softer than steel for a night or two."

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	20. The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me

**A/N: It's been a while and that is for reasons that are my own and my apologies but here we go. This is the last Flashback or In The Past chapter, after this we're just going full force in the present...and I mean full force. We're going to dip back into the action-y side of things here soon. Hope you like....**

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No surprise.

Her first day out of Sick Bay and here she was. Well, technically, her first day released from Sick Bay anyway. Cottle had given her - and Helo - all sorts of hell when they came back from their field trip. She didn't pay much attention to his words at the time. Her brain was only focusing on the important bullet points of the moment: Putting Sam's photo up, How amazing Karl was for doing this for her; What a bad idea it had been to go waltzing around in her state; and wondering when the hell the Doc was going to shut up his lecture and just give her some pain meds already.

After spending about a week recovering from that little adventure, she'd been allowed to, with crutches, take short walks up and down the corridor to "rehabilitate." Of course they were always supervised. In case good old Starbuck pushed too hard and ended up keeling over right there in the hall. When his schedule allowed, it was Helo who would do the honors of escorting her back and forth. Even when she told him not to bother, he'd still show up whenever he could and walk slowly alongside her.

She loved him, she really did, but it was hard to see him and not see the guy who laid with the Cylon every night. She hated them so much more for doing that. Not that she didn't already have a million and one reasons to despise them...but this one really hurt.

Her and Helo, Kara and Karl, they'd been friends for so long. Longer than she'd even known Lee. Since the day she met him, he had always been there. And now it was ruined. The Cylons took him from her. Made it dirty.

Adama came twice. Walked with her back and forth, unlike Helo, he didn't put his energy into filling the walks with chatter. Nope. The Old Man was simply there when she entered the hallway with a greeting ­-_What do ya hear?_

Other than that, it was silence; and she was more than fine with it. Honestly, just having him there, his footsteps echoing with hers, was all she needed. To know he wasn't horribly disappointed with her; didn't hate her for leaving him to settle. Wasn't disgusted by her weakness. The great Starbuck - of whom he'd been so proud - look what she'd been reduced to.

At the hands of the enemy: captured, held, beat. Alone in the dark she'd break. She'd scream to be let out; she'd cry, letting the tears fall out and down into the shadows. Something to be proud of alright.

But still, he'd come.

The one Adama to visit her since she'd been back...and she thanked the Lords a thousand times over for him.

But now she was officially kicked out of Life Station with a bottle of pills, instructions for follow-up (she couldn't change all her bandages herself, unfortunately) and a cigarette she'd lifted from Cottle's jacket in one of the rare moments when he'd discard the thing.

Now...here she was. The first place she'd gone to and it wasn't the shower or her bunk. No, she'd hobbled her way down here. The only place she'd wanted to be the whole time she was stuck in that damn place.

Again: No surprise at all.

There wasn't too much activity. A handful of Chief's crew doing maintenance while a group of birds were out for a training exercise. She could hear the crackle of a wireless radio near a Viper Figurski was laying under. The voices discussing the recent official return of Laura Roslin to the office of President and speculating and debating actions she should take after the "_New Caprica Debaccle"_ one of them called it.

Dismissing it -even now she still hated politics- she flexed her fingers on the hand grips of the crutches and started again across the deck to her destination. Where the birds that weren't out flying slept. Among the line, she found it. The tail number that held her heart. The enscripted plate announcing proudly the one to whom it was loyal.

Laying her hand gently on the cylindrical nose, she couldn't help but feel the familiar awe. No matter how many times she'd seen or flown in a Viper, she still felt that same pull on her heart. Still struck by the beauty of design and duty. Respect your bird, it respects you.

Leaning the left crutch against the Viper carefully, she discarded it. Using just the right for leverage, she laid her left palm against the body of the bird and made her less than graceful way down the plane. Her palm and fingers running along the familiar outing; gentle as a lover's touch. Coming to the name plate, she ran her fingers over the letters of her rank, name and callsign.

She took in her girl. It'd been so long since she'd seen the sky. A Viper was meant to fly. It wasn't made to sit and collect dust; forgotten and aging. Not fulfilling it's purpose; she could almost feel it screaming at her under her fingertips. Begging her to set it free once again.

"I know how you feel." she spoke softly to it.

She couldn't help her girl anymore than she could help herself with the same problem at the moment. Until she could, Starbuck would do all she could to take care of her though. Not flying, she was able only to take the lightest of maintenance to start. But she spoke the promise with her heart: Soon they'd both taste the sky again.

After leaving the nest, she was making her way across the hangar deck and couldn't help but pause to watch the returning group of planes come in. Most of them were decent enough, one came in rough, bouncing angrily against the steel, screeching as it left it's mark on the floor. Shaking her head, she turned to continue her exit, wanting to get out of there before anyone saw her. But Hotdog's voice only reaffirmed her belief that the Lords truly did have it in for Kara Thrace.

"Starbuck!" he called excitedly as he strode over to the Captain that gave him the name he'd come to love as much as his birth name. She paused her movements and and sighed before turning around and seeing the young pilot.

"Hey." he greeted, a moment to take in the sight of her before he continued speaking. "Knew it'd take more than a couple hits to keep you away."

"What can I say, I'm hard to get rid of." she shrugged her shoulders, preparing to leave when he spoke up again.

"Hell yeah." he replied enthusiastically. "Doc say when you'll be out there with us again?"

"Cottle talks a lot without really saying much of anything." she answered without answering. "Shouldn't be too long."

"Now," another familiar voice spoke up, as Kat approached the two having apparently heard their conversation. " is that what he said or is taht some wishful thinking?" she asked, coming to stand next to her wingman.

"That's fact." Starbuck answered pointed, always preparing her claws when it came to Kat. She just couldn't stand this woman.

"Well we don't want you rushing into anything you're not ready for." she spoke leaning her elbow on Costanza. "What's wrong, Starbuck? Afraid people might start thinking another name first when it comes to pilots?"

"Right." she began. "And whose name did you have in mind? Yours?" she asked her former nugget.

"Well-" the pilot began in a cocky tone before the blonde cut her off.

"Because you keep making crap landings like the one I saw out there your name will be synonymous with angry knuckle draggers bangin dents out of the deck."

Kat shot her wingman a sideways glare and pulled away from him defensively as he snickered at the critque.

"I was near bingo fuel." she defended herself. "How would you land a bird nearing bone dry?"

Again, Kara shrugged tilting her head as she spoke. "Point it at the deck, stop it when I got there."

Once more Hotdog was grinning. Imagining Starbuck in Kat's situation and very much believing that the veteran pilot would find some seat of her pants miracle moment and make it look simple as breathing.

"Big talk for someone who can't back it up." Kat shot angrily. "In fact I think it's pretty safe to say that that's all you'll be for a long while: Talk."

"Think I can't follow through, Katraine?" she asked dangerously.

"I think those extra legs you're carting around prove you won't be walking any walk anytime soon." the shorter woman stepping closer. "Sir."

"Try me." the captain replied, removing her hold on the 'extra legs,' letting the crutches hit the floor as she stood there. Already knowing it wasn't a great idea, but she wasn't about to be talked down to. Especially by her.

Kat, meanwhile, seemed amused by the show; chuckling to herself and looking around before answering lightly.

"I'm not about to hit a cripple."

"Guys." Hotdog spoke up, trying to get the situation off the burner. "Come on, we're just talking here."

"Yeah Starbuck." Kat said to the steel eyed woman. "He's right. We're just talking. Talk, talk, talk."

"Let's see how much talking you can do with your jaw wired shut."

"Isn't there somewhere you can go where you're less useless?" Kat spoke back quickly.

"Oh, I'm gonna-"

"What? Huh? You're gonna what?" Kat egged in a louder voice even as Hotdog did his best to keep them quiet and calm. Then changing his approach, he bent down to pick up the discarded aides for his former slight instructor. Hoping handing them back would help to diffuse the situation and allow for an uneventful exit. While he did so, his wingman took a step closer to continue the exchange.

"If you haven't noticed, Captain, you can't do too much of anything right now. So all your threats are jack. And all your skills are worth nothing since you can't suit up to use them. You're not a pilot." her voice lowering for her next words, faces now inches apart. "You're dead weight. Just another stone that us real active pilots have to carry and protect. You think you're hot shit; but truth is right now you're not worth the people who died rescuing your sorry ass."

The last remark instantly had the blonde shooting out a quick jab to her face. It wasn't the hardest fist she could throw, not even close. But it was the hardest she could manage without throwing her back into it...meaning without her own momentum sending her off balance and falling to the floor right there. Standing tentatively without the crutches, leaning her weight on her good leg, she would've been sprawled out on the ground right next to her.

"Whoa!" Hotdog exclaimed as the struck woman stumbled back, hand flying to the wetness that began to drip from her nostril. Recovering from the initial shock of it, she began to advance angrily.

"Cripple or not, I'm gonna - "

"Kat!"

The angry new voice erupted, freezing the woman in place. A moment after the sound, the voice's owner was quick to appear, looking more than a little upset. The CAG, having seen the commotion from across the deck, stood next to the now silent trio of officers. He looked between the two women, from one to the other, feelin the deja vu of the time they'd all been in this situation before.

"Care to explain what it is I'm interrupting?" he asked in all his pissed off authority. He looked first to Kat who remained silent, gazing at the floor, then to Starbuck who offered him an answer.

"Nothing." she spoke looking at the other woman. "Just talking."

"Is that so?" Apollo asked looking from the speaker to the silent one.

"Yes sir." Kat confirmed to which her CAG gave a slight nod that told he didn't believe the version of the truth they'd given, but he wasn't going to go any further with it.

"Kat go clean yourself up." he ordered, hearing her words of obedience before rough, angry footsteps told him she was gone.

Once she'd left, he turned his focus. His gaze shooting ice, his sharp words came.

"You're certainly making yourself right at home again." Her face was hard, not giving any sort of response, but he knew his words had been received.

There was a part of him that was already kicking himself for starting our the conversation this way. Their first eye-to-eye and he'd already set the tone with one sentence. That same part thought he was a disgusting excuse of a man for not visiting her all that time she was in Sick Bay; for always finding excuses and better things to do.

But the truth was, there was that _other_ part of him; the bigger part. The piece of him that couldn't forgive her. He couldn't look at her and not think about what she'd done to him. And that part didn't care what her reasons were; _that_ Apollo didn't care what she'd been through or what state she may be in. That Apollo hated her regardless of all that. That Apollo just wanted to hurt her the way she'd done him. And that was the man who was speaking now.

"You just don't feel quite yourself unless you're frakking things up, huh?"

"Yep, that's me." she answered with a stoic face. "Welcome back."

"That's just it, isn't it?" he asked. "You're not back, are you Starbuck? Not really. And it pisses you off."

"More than you know." she answered tightly.

"Well here's what I do know." he started again. "Me, and everyone else here, we have enough on our minds right now. The last thing I need is to worry about having a wingless, once-upon-a-time hero down here messing with my pilots and disturbing what little order we have right now." The disgusted part of himself kicked a little stronger once his words were in the air. That version of himself attempted to make itself better known, yet the anger remained in control and he pursued. "So until you're useful again to what we do, I suggest you stay off this deck before you spread your cancer any further."

There was a flash that passed over her. Gone as quickly as it came, but he'd seen it. Something in what he'd said - or very possibly all of it for all he knew - had struck something painful in her. Something strong enough to break the shield, if even for a moment. And in that moment, the angry spiteful man in him dissolved from the present and he couldn't stand the feeling it left him with.

Instantly wishing he had some sort of rewind or undo button, he felt his mouth stammering, waiting for his brain and voice to catch up and try to make it better.

"Kara..." he managed before he somehow became aware that another of his pilots was in audience. Hotdog stood statue-like in place, silent and unmoving. The young man glanced from one veteran - one legend - to the other, still holding onto the discarded crutches he'd picked up from the ground. Lee looked away from the young pilot and tried again to say something. "Kara, I-"

"Yes sir." she interrupted after a moment, seeming to recover her own voice too. Accepting the instruments from Costanza, she adjusted them to her body and spoke again. "You want me gone, you got it."

"Wait," Lee started as she turned herself aroung, ignoring him. Stepping next to her as she began walking away, he put a hand on her upper arm to halt her. "Wait, Kara, let me - "

"Frak off!" she hissed ripping her arm away from him and continuing her exit.

Left to watch her leave, he considered following her. Forcing his apology on her whether she wanted to hear it or not. But he knew better; anymore face time with her now would most likely make things worse. _Damn it._ He glanced towards the other man still standin there, wondering if he'd just cursed himself out loud. He only found Hotdog to be wordlessly watching him.

That enraged vengeful man he'd been moments ago had got what he wanted.

Congratulations.

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	21. Games That Play Us

**A/N: Alrighty, here I am again, back after another delay of delay sized proportions with another installment I hope will be enjoyed. Also...as far as cylons go (the final five) since i started this before we knew who they were they might also be an AU factor. But maybe not, maybe I've decided they'll remain...who knows? I know...but you don't. Not until the time is right for you to know!**

**ps: i cut this because it ran really long. so now it's only kinda long....**

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He couldn't believe it.

It was crazy. An overwhelming feeling of both realistic disbelief and an immense joy. He'd felt it come to life in his chest the moment he witnessed his wife step off the raptor and saw, with his own eyes, the little girl in her arms.

Now he was feeling the girl, his little girl, in his own arms. His Hera, alive and with him. Tears fell freely from his eyes and his heart was full enough to surely burst and end his life. Helo hugged Sharon close, her own face a reflection of his, their daughter between them in the embrace.

This wasn't real. The feeeling that it was a dream hung in the back of his mind. A dream, just like every dream he'd had of her since spreading ashes into the black of space. But this dream, he didn't want to wake from. The feeling of her in his arms, he couldn't go back to living without it.

As if aware of his thoughts, the child held him tighter. And somehow, in feling the little arms clutch to him, he knew with absolute certainty that this was not a dream at all. This was no dream, this was a miracle. This was a gift from the Gods.

The precious bubble of the Agathon's moment was invaded by the Admiral's voice. A harsh order. Helo glanced towards the raptor where a flush of Marines now held at gunpoint another Cylon. The first skinjob he'd seen on Caprica.

"Take that thing into custody." the demand had Helo's wife stepping from him to stand by the blonde.

"Wait." she defended standing by her sister. "She helped us get away."

"Lt. Agathon, step back." he ordered the officer.

Sharon offered a look to the cylon she brought back with her, the one she'd encouraged to come along, and silently apologized to her before doing as she was told. The six gazed unsteadily at the scene around her and nodded slightly to Sharon. Telling her it was ok, that she understood.

"Sir." Helo now approached the Admiral, still holding the child tightly in his arms - as if he could ever let her go again.

Adama looked to the man, the father. His eyes softened at the sight of the man holding his daughter. Of course he'd want sympathy for the party that made it possible to bring the child back. So the admiral gave the only ground he could for this situation.

"She won't be harmed." he informed the captain. "For now, she'll be contained and questioned."

"Yes sir. I know sir." Helo nodded before what he'd originally spoke up to say. "Where?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forgive me, sir, but Galactica only has one holding cell built for cylon...specifications." he wateched the older man catch what he meant by his statement. In all that happened, he hadn't had time to think about it. But even though Helo knew that the admiral understood what he was saying, he emphasized anyway.

"And it's occupied."

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She was barely able to keep from pacing the lenght of the room. How long had it been now? She hadn't heard anything yet. No news or update for her to catch wind of. Nothing.

It still seemed too outrageous to accept. There were cylons...cylons had been on the ship. Cylon "negotiators"; and Baltar had been with them to boot. Gaius frakking Baltar was alive and well and bunking up with the cylons. All her information came second hand, lately from Marine guard. On the days that she had watch, Mathias - she had always liked Erin - would tell her what she knew. Sometimes what she had to say, Kara had already heard from Lee but she listened anyway, just as intently to whatever the soldier told her. It was how she found out about what was happening while she was still kept in her box.

Food storage going from scarce to extinct. The algae planet; answer to everyone's prayers. Narcho dying of radiation poisoning getting his civvie ship safely through. Cylons on board the ship, negotiating a stand-off over that very planet.

And where was she during all of it? Right where she was now. Climbing the walls.

She hadn't gotten any news in...it had to be hours by now. She'd felt the familiar lurch of the FTL and knew somehow the stand-off had come to an end. In whatever way, things had been decided and finished and they had jumped away. They were away from the planet and away from the cylons...but what happened?

She had no information about events planet side or survivors. How many did they lose? Who were they? Lee stopped by briefly, telling her he was going to be on the ground delegating the processing teams. He told her he actually suggested, appealed, to at the very least, let her help out with the operations. Anything from ground labor to even simple shuttle runs back and forth. Despite his efforts, everything took place without her.

Before Cylons had jumped in, she was supposed to be having another exciting meeting with Farrow. But of course all shuttles to and from any ships in the fleet were halted. So she was left to sit and stew and wonder while everything went down.

Kara thought about the last session, he'd asked her about the flashbacks. How often, how vivid, triggers,...things like that. And she'd been good; answered all his questions. Gave him a hard time, sure. Asked her own questions in return, pain for pain like she'd said from the beginning. He gave her "a useful method" to deal when they occured. A method which she thought was stupid. _"Feel your feet on the ground. Feel your weight..."_ blah, blah, blah. Maybe every now and then he seemed to know what he was talking about.

Starbuck gazed at her black walls and tried to calm her mind. If it was really bad, if something horrible had happened someone would have told her. She sat on the mattress, using all her will to keep her leg from bouncing up and down anxiously.

There was something she couldn't shake off. A feeling. She could feel...something. She wasn't quite sure what it was or how to explain it. It was just a feeling. Something was coming.

The lock sounded, alerting her to a visitor. Finally, she might be able to hear some news. She stood up, seeing the admiral enter the cell, a red flag going up. Something big.

"Starbuck." he greeted with a nod. She opened her mouth to ask what happened but stopped when a slew of deck hands appeared, entering behind him and flowing in like a river. The old man looked to one and instructed a simple "Make it fast."

The woman looked around, watched confused as the men spread throughout the room with their tools.

"Sir?" she asked. "What's going on?"

Starbuck took her eyes from the various crew members at the walls - some she knew, some she didn't. Each of them sending a screech into the air as they scraped at the paint she'd covered the place with. Looking towards their leader, the man she'd follow without question headfirst into hell, she searched for an answer.

"Kara." addressing her with a softer voice this time. "Something's happened. Something unexpected."

She continued to look at him as the words left him, waiting for an emphasis; looking for a reason for this. He'd let her have this, why was he taking it from her now? She thought she'd been doing well; speaking with Farrow, even spending some time trying to sleep on the mattress she had until recently been avoiding like a plague. Trying...and she'd actually managed to drift off a couple times. Never for long but it felt like progress to her.

"What's wrong? Have I done something?" she asked. "Did Farrow say something?"

"You haven't done anything." he answered.

"Is everyone ok?" she asked. "Our people on the planet?"

"It's not about that." he shook his head. "I need you to come with me."

"I don't understand."

"We need the room." he informed, watching for the meaning in his words to reach her.

Kara let her brain catch up with what he said; with what they meant. They needed the room. A room she was in because she was "too dangerous" and "too unstable" to roam about; because she lost her footing while in the brig. So either there was someone else in more trouble than her, which seemed highly unlikely at themoment, or the only other explanation for why they would need the room. It meant...

"There's one here." she finished her thought aloud in barely more than a whisper. Her eyes darted to the walls that were starting to return to their transparent origin; her touch on it disappearing in swipes of arms. There was one there. Another. A cylon.

She fought to keep focus. To keep herself present even as her mind was bombarded with images and memories that betrayed the effort. _Stay here_, she demanded of herself.

Turning her back to Adama, worried evidence of the struggle would be too apparent. Maybe she should be trying out the Doc's method. Maybe she should be feeling her feet...

_Her feet barely touching the floor. Strung up by her wrists. The cracking sound that rang out everytime a new lash sliced into her skin._

She shook her head, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead as if she could push the memories out.

_Focus, damn it!_ she screamed inside her head.

"Kara?" Admiral's voice helped; pulled at her focus to help ground her.

"Yeah...I'm-I'm fine." she replied, not yet turning back around to face him. "I just...Which one?"

Adama paused for a few moments after the question. Witnessing her reaction to the news he'd already given wasn't very uplifting, very much the opposite. He knew she'd turned from him because she didn't want him to see. But just because it wasn't her face he was looking at, didn't mean he didn't see what it was doing to her. But none of it would be made better or easier by refusing to answer the question. Even if he thought so she could easily get the answer from any number of other sources.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked, never letting his eyes off her; her back to him. Tips of scars, no doubt feeling fresh as the day they were received, peeking out waiting to hear the answer as well; he obliged. "It's a six."

"Six." she repeated, nodding as she took a breath._ Calm down. Focus._ She cast her eyes now to wear even less of her hand applied paint remained. Six.

_The hard slap across her face; pulling her back. Forcing open her slipping eyes to see that wicked features of the machine. _

_"Stay with me, Starbuck." it spoke with a smile as it knelt beside her now that she was somewhat conscious again. "We're just getting started."_

Adama's attention was directed away from her by one of the crew announcing to him that they were just about finished. This reminding him that they were on a bit of a time frame. He'd given orders to the marines to wait five minutes before bringing the cylon down there. It had been well over five minutes, he knew, and he'd estimate maybe another four or five before they were there to set up the prisoner with her new residence.

"Kara, look at me." he requested of his surrogate daughter.

He didn't like her keeping her back to him; hiding from him. She didn't want him to see her "weak," as she thought it. Despite his words, she still kept from turning to him; kept from sharing a human moment she perceived as a failure.

"Captain." he stated firmer.

A few moments passed, him watching her form. She took deep breaths, he thought maybe she was even wiping at tears even. Self consciously turning to him, her eyes downcast until he extended his order with the statement he was too familiar with : "Give me your eyes."

When she did so, he saw the uncertainty, wariness, even fear and stepped closer. He reached his arms out, placing a hand on either shoulder. Where before he'd felt her flinch under the same gesture, now he felt only the tight tension of someone bracing themselves against an attack; nevertheless he kept steady. Holding her eyes with his own, he spoke with every ounce of sincerity he had.

"Kara," he began. "I know this isn't easy, but I need you to keep your head; stay. Stay with me. Because we're going to walk out of here. We're going to walk back to the brig - it's temporary, I promise. No cuffs, just you and me walking there. But you have to stay here or we can't do it. Don't let yourself be taken back or overwhelmed by this. I know you can do this. Am I right in trusting you?"

He watched her take in his words, every one. She looked to him, for a moment, like a little girl. He swore for a few seconds he was looking at her as a child, maybe seven or eight, scared and lost and wondering why it happened to her.

She put herself straight, steadied her voice enough to sound sure.

"Yes, sir." holding his eyes with her promise. "I won't let you down."

"I know."

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She walked down the corridors as they lead her. Bound and under guard to what would surely be her residence for the time being; or for the rest of her life depending. If they decided it would suit them best just to kill her right away afterall. She truly hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Caprica hoped they would find her helpful enough to keep around even if it meant being locked up. She couldn't go back. If she were to die and return to the baseship, it would be waking up in the lion's den...and she had surely pissed the lions off to no end. They'd probably box her; put her in cold storage...and that was the best scenario.

It was hard enough living with some of them after they'd learned she'd killed her sister cylon. But this was worse. Not only had she killed another cylon, she'd abandoned them all and helped to take the child back to the humans. There was truly no going back now.

For the first time in her existence, she feared death.

Walking the corridor, she wished Sharon had come along. she would've felt a bit better if she had her company; someone she knew could defend her or appeal on her behalf. But it was understandable, the mother had other priorities right now.

So Caprica walked amidst the armed men and women. Allowing herself to be lead as an animal on a leash. They turned the corner and entered a hallway just as a hatch opened a short way down. She saw the man exit; the leader, William Adama.

He looked their way a moment or two before turning his attention the way he came. She witnessed his demeanor change as he waited by the door a second. Appearing to her, notn as a hardened military leader but as...well, the best way to describe it would simply be human. Gazing in through the entrance, he extended his arm. As if welcoming someone towards him.

It was then that another passed through the hatchway. By now she was nearly feet from it and them. She recognized the soldier immediately. She'd seen on more than one occassion. The hair she'd last seen as matted and stained with colors of dirt and blood was now it's natural blonde color. The clothes she wore clean and intact as they should be.

The woman standing with the Admiral turned to see them as he had. They were close enough now that her escorts halted and there for she did as well; needing the duo to move before they could further their journey. After a few seconds, the other woman turned away from them, ready to walk away with the older man.

Not knowing what made her do it, Caprica suddenly found herself calling out. "Captain Thrace."

Hearing her, she stopped and was in front of the cylon again. They met each other's gaze and held it, even as the Admiral spoke the soldier's name.

"Kara." Adama spoke softly urging her to be ok and walk away without any consequence; still she did not relent. Holding steady.

In her eyes Caprica saw a storm. One raging and swirling with everything that threatened to take over. Anger. Fear. Pain. And more. Everything she'd suffered at the hands of her brothers and sisters. Caprica wondered, while witnessing the battle for control, if the pilot knew who she was. If she knew that Six had been the one to offer her the help she was able.

"Do-" she began, pausing her words seeing the woman's skin twitch at her voice; her muscles contracting in defensive or possibly offensive preparation. "Do you remember me?"

Kara's heart pounded in her chest viciously. Fast and hard. She forced her breathing to remain calm and neutral. Everything she had in her was fighting to keep her present and not let her do something stupid. She should walk away. Get away from this before she couldn't keep it back anymore and memory flooded over reality and she got herself in more trouble.

But she couldn't move. She found herself paralized..and than it spoke to her again. And she felt the lid twisting off everything she was fighting to hold back. Her heart slammed faster. It asked if she remembered it?

Was this a joke? She wanted the comfort of her cockpit. Of her black walls; the real one - the sky. She wanted to swallow a bucket of the bitter deck made booze in one sitting. Wanted the satisfaction of cracking her knuckles against it's face. Of feelin her sidearm recoil after shooting a bullet square into it's chest. Right were Sam took his. She wanted -

"Enough." Adama's voice cut through her, followed by his hand on her shoulder pulling her backward. He'd pulled her to step back, allowing room for them to enter. "Lock this thing up."

He gave his order, his protective hold still on her shoulder. Than the six was gone and with it, the hold she felt it's presence had on her. Alone now with the old man in the hall, Kara took deep breaths to slow her heart and calm her mind. She could feel the sweat that had formed and noticed the smallest quiver in her hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked, causing her to look into the wise blue eyes she'd known for so long.

"Yeah." she answered, before clearing her throat and speaking with a stronger voice. "Thanks...Sorry about..." she shook her head. "Sorry."

"Let's go."

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	22. An Attempt To Tip The Scales

**a/n: Here we go! Much love to everyone sticking with this! Again this one turned out to be pretty long but I decided not to cut it. This turned out to be one that I really liked once it was finished. Hopefully you feel the same, if not, oh well...**

**ps Named for an exceptional Bright Eyes song **

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1...2...3...4...5

1...2...3...4...5

The muscles in her abdomen burned as she finished pulling herself into another sit-up. She'd lost count of how many she had actually done. Everytime she got to five her mind started back at one. By now, she'd counted to five so many times only her stomach knew the exact amount.

Not much else to do when you're in brig. She learned that many times over throughout her military career. Right now her choices were this, sleep or sit and think. And this was easily the most appealing at the moment.

Hearing the hatch open, Kara, laying flat on the floor, tilted her head to see through the bars behind her. To determine if it was someone to see her or possibly her yet to be conscious company in the adjacent cell.

"Sergeant." the unexpected visitor greeted as she entered.

"Ensign." she replied.

"Up for a guest, Captain?" Mathias asked, not looking up from her paper.

"I'll have to reschedule some things, but I think I can pencil one in." Kara answered before getting to her feet. Approaching the bars, she continued with a smirk. "Well, lookee here. Ensign Barolay."

"Yeah, yeah." Barolay nodded at the teasing tone used by the woman. "Don't give me too hard a time for it...sir."

"Congratulations; hear you got your wings. In the big time now Jean. Got a call yet?"

"Thanks." she smiled proudly. "And no, not yet. Nothing I want to stick anyway." she paused a beat and let her smile drop. "You know, I meant to see you sooner but...you know it was hectic coming back and then viper training so..."

"No big deal." Kara answered, dismissively. "You got stuff to do; I've got stuff to do. So, what's up?"

"It's nothing, I just..." she took a breath and scratched the back of her head before speaking. "You know, on the Algea planet, we had to fight the toasters. And Apollo, he had me, I mean he picked me to command the civilians. And it...I've never defended a fixed position before you know, it was always guerilla. Hit and run stuff. But we did; I did. And it worked."

"How'd you feel?"

"I haven't felt anything like it since playing ball." she explained exhilerated. "Going toe-to-toe, face off and coming away on top. It's amazing."

"Yeah, it's a great feeling." Kara agreed witha nod. "So what's wrong?"

"Look, Starbuck, I don't mean to rip your stitches but...it's about Anders."

Starbuck gripped her hands around the steel cylanders seperating them. Holding tight enough to whiten her knuckles, she hung her head an instant before lifting it again. Returning eye contact, she spoke tightly.

"What about him?" she asked, noting how Barolay hesitated a moment before carefully continuing.

"Anders, he was my brother in every sense that matters. And aftre it was over, my instinct was to find him in the celebration. And I'm sorry to lay it on you're the only person who can understand. You're the only one I can talk to because you're the only one that knew him. Really knew him." pausing a second of her explanation, "I just wanted-"

"I can't," she interrupted quietly; almost whispering. "I can't do this Jean. I'm sorry."

"No, you know what? Nevermind." the woman started speaking again quickly, wiping her eye and shaking her head. She took a step back. "It's-It's, uh, I shouldn't have asked. I mean, you've got your deal going on and you don't need me piling onto it."

Kara watched her begin to step backward away from her; prepping herself for a getaway. She wished she could help her...Sam would want her to. She knew he thought of Jean as a little sister, but, still, she couldn't find it yet. She couldn't find it in herself to do what she needed her too.

"I'm sorry." she spoke again.

"No, it's cool, you know." she dismissed, still stepping back and closer to the doorway. 'You know, you've been kicking ass since day one; Anders would've been pissed to see them treating you like this." she made a her hands into fists and knocked one against the other nervously. "You need someone to bust you out, I'm around."

Barolay reached the door after speaking, attempting to lighten the mood. Casting one last glance towards the captain she finished her visit with a last suggestion.

"Maybe you can help me out with a call sign, you know?"

Once she was completely gone, Kara leaned her head against the bars; staring at the floor a few seconds after the hatch closed. Gripping the bars still tight, she clenched her jaw. Barolay was right. Because she was Kara what exactly what Kara was to her. A conection; a living connection to him. The last one. Jean Barolay was the last of the C-Bucks. The very last human link to him. The real him. The man, not just the ball player or the rebel or the fighter. And all she wanted from Kara was to talk. About him. About how she felt. How she was doing. It was all she wanted from her and she'd sent her away. She _couldn't_ do it.

"Frak!" she shouted, letting go and slapping her palm against the steel. Turning from them, she ran her hands through her hair and walked away, back to sit on the mattress. Putting her head in her hands and trying to steady her thoughts - thoughts about him, what he'd want her to do - she heard Mathias speak from the desk.

"You ok, Captain?"

"Be better with a drink." she muttered as she lay down.

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The sun beat down, warmly touching and his surroundings. Standing on the familiar deck overlooking the sparkling water, he felt her presence. Not surprisingly, as he was never without her when he came back there. Well, except that one time years ago when he'd stormed every room shouting for her.

But he knew she was with him; therefore he spoke without turning from the view. He knew she would hear. She always heard.

'I don't understand." he spoke to the warm air. "you said D'Anna wasn't The Chosen One. You said I was, and I believed it."

"You believed it because it's true." the silky smooth voice coming from behind him. "Even now, in your heart, you still believe."

"Then how is it, " he asked turning to her. "that she saw the faces of the five and I didn't?"

"What's wrong, Gaius?" she asked from her place on the lounge. LIfting to a seated position, crossing her exposed legs. "Still worried you're one of us? A big nasty Cylon...like me?"

She smiled, running a finger down her calf. His eyes followed the moement, caught up in staring. In the familiar warmth she circulated in his veins.

"While it's not the adjectives I'd use to describe you..." he trailed off, watching her raise and saunter towards him. He remembered his point. "It is a legitimate concern. You say God has a plan for me; a special use for which I amhis instrument, but until I met you I didn't know or care to know your God. I was just a man. Why does a God of cylons lay out a so-called path or take any interest in the activities of a man like me unless I were a cylon?"

"God's plan is His own, Gaius." she answered. "Only He knows the entirety of it. It is made clear to us when the time is right for it to do so."

"But you know." he debated, " I mean, obviously you know something, at least of my part in it all. This 'Chosen One' business? What am I chosen for then, if not to see the final five?"

"Do you have faith, Gaius?" she asked standing in front of him. "Do you trust in God? In my guidance down his path?"

"Yes." he surprised himself with the honesty of the answer. "I do. I have faith."

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His eyes opened.

He was lying on a bed, not the one he'd gotten used to over the past months; the one on the base star. He moved only his eyes, darting them around the room to ascertain his whereabouts. Gaius knew this place. Knew the familiar walls. Galactica.

Specifically, he knew this room. He was in the temple before he was at the house. Now he woke in the military's custody; Galactica's brig.

He sat up now; terrified. they were going to kill him.

"Oh God." he whispered.

"Shh," she was with him again. Sitting on the bed. "Easy Gaius. It's alright."

"It's not alright." he spoke quietly to her. Panic even in his low words. "Adama, Roslin, everyone here would like nothing but to see me fly out the nearest airlock."

"What better way to find ou tif you're a cylon?" she asked teasingly, to which he shook his head.

"If they were goin gto kill you, you'd already be dead." she informed.

"No. That would be too easy." he replied, standing and moving across the cell to look back at her on the bed. "No. No. They want me to pay. All of them; they want to rip me to bits in front of everyone. Give the entire crew a role in it. 'Line up! One and all. take your shot at Gaius Baltar!' "

"Well then, I guess you'll have to find the bright side."

"Splendid." he responded bitterly. "If you aren't too busy basking in the silver lining, perhaps you'd be so kind as to share it with me. Tell me, what bright side could you possibly see here?"

"Shh..."she replied, standing in front of him, inches away; laying her finger delicately against his lips. "You'll wake the company."

"Company?" he repeated, Six turning his head to face the adjacent cell. Gazing in at the mess of hair on the cot as it's owner continuously jerked and twitch in a fitfull sleep.

"Might that be the silver lining?" he asked as he continued to stare.

Hearing no answer for a moment he turned to once again find the woman on the bed. A devilish smile on her face, sending his blood to boil all over again. Moving over to her, he leaned in, his voice thick with lush as he spoke.

"We must be careful not to disturb."

"Quiet as mice." she promised.

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_She was in the corridor; the sounds of screams coming from one o the barred rooms down the way. Moving quickly towards the sound, being as quiet as possible in her rush. _

_The cells she passed were all empty. As she came towards the source of the noise she saw a figure standing still. A man, unmoving, most likely a skinjob. She approached it cautiously she was surprised to see who it was._

_"Lee?" she asked confused. This wasn't right. Lee wasn't here. He never had been. "Lee, what's going on?"_

_"We didn't see." he replied, keeping his eyes ahead of him. _

_"What?" she had no idea what was going on. She was in the detention center; she was excaping. But what was he doing there? What didn't they see? She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to face her. "Lee! What's happening?"_

_He looked at her, his eyes a cold mix of anger and sadness. He spoke forcefully._

_"We should have seen."_

_"What are you talking about? Seen what?" they were wasting time. Valuable time. They had to get out. "We have to go!"_

_He grabbed her hand and gently flattened her palm to against his. Matching their open hands; finger to finger._

_"You have to see." he told her._

_"What?" she whispered, desperate to get an answer from the cryptic words. "See what?!"_

_He pulled his own hand away, leaving hers open. He then returned his focus ahead of him. Another scream. kara finally turned to follow his sight. Cylons._

_There were skinjobs in the cell. Executing people. Skinjobs ...in viper suits?_

_She looked down at her still open hand and stared for a moment. For some reason, she raised her palm to the light. The bright glow silhouetted her fingers and her voice spoke without her control. One word and she didn't know why._

_"Five."_

_The brightness illuminated even more for a few seconds before dying down._

_"So what's the plan?"_

_This time when she looked at Apollo he was more the man she knew. He was in his smock, breathing heavy and sweating standing next to her; he looked sideways at her while he held his sidearm in front of them._

_Before she could figure out what was happening now there was an explosion at the end of the hall. Recovering from the shcok to find Lee had vanished, she instantly took off running the opposite way as they dashed after her. Running as fast as she could, she pushed through a door and stopped in her tracks._

_"What the frak?" she asked aloud to herself, running her hand through her hair as she spun once to take in the room. She was in the Senior Officer's bunkroom._

_Hearing the march of metal steps slow to a stop outside the hatch. She didn't dwell on it too long coming quickly to her mind. She climbed up to HotDog's bunch, she could reach the vent grate from there. With effort she was able to take it off and pull herself inside the opening. Quickly bringing the grate up up and replacing it just as the door was smashed open. She silently watched them pour into the room, the pulsing red eyes taking stock._

_"What do we do now?" the whispered voice from behind her didn't scare her; like she knew it would be waiting for her in there._

_"Madame President." she swhispered back, "This way." _

_She started leading them quietly as possible down the vent space; moving north from the bunkroom. She needed a weapon. She needed to fight. But first she needed to get the president somewhere safe. _

_As they crawled, she heard Roslin speak behind her. Starbuck froze and turned as best she could to see her._

_"What did you say?" she asked, a slight shake in her voice. _

_When she got no answer, she started moving again. Quicker this time. She was a few feet ahead of where they'd stopped, Starbuck put her knee down to keep going and found the surface disappear from under her. She felt gravity pulling her down as she fell like a stone. Then with a splash, she felt the shock of her body becoming engulfed in icy water._

Waking up with a gasp, Kara found herself on the floor of the brig cell next to the bed. Breathing heavy, she looked at her surroundings as she tried to calm down.

The cell.

_This one is different_. she told herself as her chest heaved up and down. It's not the same one. _You're safe here. You're safe._

With her head in her hands, she nodded. As if agreeing with the statements in her head. Still sitting on the floor, she could feel the sweat from the intensity of her dream.

It was new, the dream. Dreaming at all. It had been a very long time since she experienced something that wasn't some violent memory whilse she slept. Possibly a good sign though it didn't feel it. The strange dream only amplified the feeling she'd been having. Something was coming.

"Do you always make those sounds when you sleep?"

Kara felt her body involuntarily jerk at the sound of the cynical voice. She'd forgotten she had a neighbor; he'd been out cold since she arrived. She glared over to the other cell and saw the man lying on his cot with an arm draped over his eyes. When she didn't respond he lifted his head and looked her way.

"Bad dream?"

"Still in one." she threw at him pulling herself from the floor.

She sat herself on the edge of the mattress, shaking away the remaining traces of the strange dream. She noticed Corporal Venner now where she'd last seen Mathias. A shift change told her she'd been asleep for at least a few hours.

"Perhaps you'd like to talk about it?" Baltar asked, walking towards the wall of bars the two cells shared. At her scoff he continued. "I know a thing or two about nightmares."

"Do you?" she asked, getting up and walking towards him.

Quickly reaching through the bars she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him towards the metal. Then her other arm was through; holding the back of his head she pressed his face against the bars. "'Cause here's what I know: I know trying to talk to me is the second biggest mistake you can make. The first would be getting too close to this wall." she squeezed his skull harder against " next time it happens, I promise I will pop your frakking head like a grape."

Hearing the hatch once again, she determined she'd made her point. Letting go with a bit of a shove, she watched him stumble back a few steps.

"Am I interrupting soemthing?"

"Only a physical threat to my life and your guard dog doing nothing to stop it!" Baltar answered angrily.

"Is that so?" he asked looking to the officer at the desk. "Is that true, Corporal?"

"I saw two people talking, sir." he answered. "Nothing else."

"Well, glad that's all cleared up." the man said lightly.

"Bloody priceless." Baltar mumbled, returning to lay on the bed.

"Happy to see you've got that impulsive temper in check." he teased as he approached.

"He's alive. He's not bleeding." she shrugged. "Progress, right?"

"Right." he grinned a bit.

"What time is it?"

"Uh, 01:30." he answered.

"Kind of late for a social visit, Major." she mused. "What's up?"

"Couple things." he replied. "First I wanted to see, uh," he glanced over to the other cell and walked to the farthest corner he was able, keeping his back to the other cell, he leaned in and lowered his voice to keep their conversatoin private. "after last time, you know..."

"Yeah." she figured it was something like that. "That was...I'm ok. not going to happen again." her voice matching his in it's quiet volume. Pressing her tongue into the back of her teeth a moment; a tell Apollo had learned to read to mean she wanted to say something that was difficult for her. "About that, " clearing her throat. "what happened; what you saw. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to."

"No, Kara - " he began to protest.

"But thanks," she interrupted. "for the way you handled it. I just...Thanks."

"We're friends, Kara." he replied. "Maybe a lot's happened that's...that's made us question or doubt that, but it's never changed. It won't. I trust you, Kara, more than anyone. On your worst day, I trust you with my life. You _never_ have to thank me for having your back. Because I always will. You get me?"

She let out a quiet breath; half sigh, half chuckle. "Yes sir." giving him a mock salute and leaning against the bars now, returning his smile.

Lee couldn't help but notice how amazing her smile looked; how genuine. He determined she never smiled enough; even before New Caprica. Never enough. The silence stretched and he also couldn't keep himself from noticing how close they were. Even seperated by the wall of bars, he looked in her hazel eyes and his thoughts weren't in his control.

He started thinking: He could turn his head a few inches, they could press against the bars, and their lips ...

Her eyes broke away; looking down at her boots. And suddenly his logic returned. He took a self conscious step aside.

"So," she began, clearing her throat. "what's the other reason?"

"What?"

"You said you were here for a couple reasons." she reminded him. "What else?"

"Oh!" he'd completely forgot. "Well, I was talking to Roslin - "

This time it was the blaring alarm that interrupted him. The two froze a moment and listened to the command for action stations while Baltar bolted off his bed in fear.

"Go." she instructed. "Kill them all. A few for me."

"Wish you were with us out there." She nodded, obviously wishing the exact same thing.

She watched him turn and jog away, surprising her when he approached the Venner's desk instead of the hatch. Without a word, and surprising the hell out of both people watching, Lee threw a fistinto the man's face, sending him down. He instantly bent down to pick up the keys attatched to the man.

"Lee!" she

"What the frak are you doing?" Baltar shouted in shock.

"You still think you can fly?" Lee asked, hurriedly approaching the cell as he went through the keys. "You're ready?"

"Lee - "

"Are you ready?" he practically shouted.

"I know I am. But Lee, I can't let you do this." she argued. "Remember what you told me on Pegasus? Bucking authority almost cost you everything. You can't - "

"Last time it _almost_ cost _me_ everything. But if I don't do this, it can cost _everyone_ everything. Our best chances are with you in the charge with us." he spoke quickly yet honest as he opened the door. "You can take Tumbler's bird out. Are you up for this?"

"Lead the way."

"You can't be serious!" Baltar yelled grabbing the bars of his own cell. "You can't do this! She's-She's obviously off her rocker! That's why she's in here!" he continued shouting after they'd exited. "You're going to get us all killed!"

He glanced over, nervously, at her as she stood with her arms crossed and watching the door.

"This should be interesting."

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	23. Don't Let Me Explode

**A/N: Hey there! I'm gonna go ahead and start this off by saying that about the only thing I haven't decided about this is whether or not it'll have an L/K ship. But regardless of that even if they don't flat out get together, as on the show, there will always be tension between the two. The other thing I gotta say is that I'm not extremely proud of this chap, it's shorter than all the others, but it is necessary for what's to come. Hope you enjoy.**

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He walked with a purpose, entering the CIC of his ship with controlled speed. Immediately demanding information on the alarmed situation that had stirred any sleeping crew at the late hour as well as interrupted his discussion with the president.

"What do we got?"

"Baseship." his XO responded. "One hive and a whole swarm of bees aiming to sting."

Adama was pleased to see his friend finally back where he belonged and handling it with as much finesse as he always had. However he knew this was hardly the time to think about anything other than the imminent threat at hand.

"Where are our birds?"

"Hangar deck reporting the last are in the tubes." a faceless voice relayed to him.

"Four ships calling in FTL problems." the voice, this time, he recognized, as his daughter-in-law.

"Four?" another new voice, this one reminding the Admiral that Roslin had followed him to where he now stood.

"It's a long time to hold off all those raiders with four stalled ships." Saul thinking out loud. "Dozens of them, a handful of us."

"We don't have a choice." Adama spoke, looking at the DRADIS console above him.

There was something Saul said that was sticking with him. 'A handful'. For some reason, it sparked his interest. He looked at the birds marked by DRADIS as their own. Seeing them all, he instantly birthed the question:

"Who's in Viper 7?" he asked to no one in particular.

With the last of the Vipers in the sky, Adama knew the chatter would give him his answer soon enough. They would all sing out their signs to ensure radio frequency.

"Viper 7." he heard Dee speak up, reading her resources. "Signal hail shows tail 3454. That's Tumbler's sir." she paused a moment before continuing. "He's not on flight status sir. Report shows him admitted to Sick Bay 3 hours ago."

"A lot of rooks out there," Tigh offered. "First fight for a lot of them. Someone gets overwhelmed or too anxious, sets up shop in the wrong plane."

"Maybe." Adama mused, tuning his ear to the chatter as the two opposing teams came closer and closer to one another. "Maybe not."

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From the second she was out of the cell it was as if she'd never been there in the first place. Her body worked on autopilot, never hesitating once. It remembered everything; the feel of the flight suit. The preflight start up sequence. The moment she was in the cockpit it was like she'd never left.

It was only once she was actually out of the tube that she had her doubt. Not in her abilities, but in her fellow pilots. Specifically in their faith in her. Sure, it was certain some had seen her climb to the plane that wasn't hers and those who hadn't would soon hear her. If they doubted her, if it yielded even the slightest hesitation in an order it could cost lives.

Then it came time to sing out and identify who was out there as they all pushed forward. She heard Apollo call his sign and viper. Heard the familiar voices of the several others she knew and the shaky voices of those experiencing their first actual Cylon dogfight.

Then she felt herself, without a shadow of anything other than confidence, state simply who and where she was.

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Adama heard her voice and for a moment was the epitome of shock. The mystery pilot. It was Kara.

She was out there without consent; without clearance. He turned to Roslin behind him who was in her own version of surprise as she questioned confused.

"What the hell is going on?"

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There were many pilot's voices responding to the surprise call out. Most were supportive and, it sounded, excited. Spouting a _'Welcome back' _or _'About time.'_ But he heard the few that were skeptical and negative. Even in the middle of this, about to fight for their lives, there were people who had the need to disagree with something rather than remain focused on the more important task.

Nevertheless, Lee had to smile at the way the moment had played out. The way she'd done it.

Like it was nothing. It was simple and matter of fact.

Giving himself the briefest of moments for it, he quickly erased it and went all business. Speaking to one person directly, but his voice going out to the entire frequence to hear.

"Starbuck, Apollo." he began. "We're doing this Split Form. Grab and lead your birds, flanks left and right."

"Copy that Apollo." he heard her response to him before she spoke her orders. "Alright. Trip, Kat, SnapShot and Big Time Barolay. On me, weapons hot. Skylight Formation. We're going hunting."

He would never tell her, but he was surprised at the fact she actually did seem to be ready for this. Yes, he todl the truth when he'd busted her out, but he still couldn't help the nerves. So far, so good.

Taking HotDog, Schuster, Red Wing and Strummer, he gave his own orders and lead them farther into the fight.

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Roslin was only just getting her head around what was happening. Standing in the center, at the backlit station with the Admiral. Staring up at the screen. Hearing voices crack through the intercom.

"Captain Thrace is in the viper." she thought aloud, obviously that had already been concluded.

"Nice catch." Tigh responded sarcastically as he continuously flicked his gaze from the console to the readout in his hand.

"And why am I not surprised that Lee doesn't sound the slightest bit surprised?" she asked, hearing Apollo give the orders to Starbuck.

"He may have felt it necessary to the outcome of this exchange." Adama defended his son.

The DRADIS showed that the vipers and raiders had now intermingled. The fight had begun.

"Of course you'd find an excuse for his actions where she's concerned." Roslin replied. "Again, I'm not surprised."

"I didn't hear any complaints when it was you he was springing from a cell."

"Admiral-"

"By all mean, let's discuss this now!" Tigh hollered gruffly as he slapped the report down on the console. "Nevermind the fact that we've got people fighting out there and ships still reporting FTL problems!"

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"Here we go." the nervous voice filled her helmet.

They were coming up on the raiders and Starbuck could feel the anxiety in her fellow pilot. Starbuck opened her mouth to respond, but was surprised to find her mind blanking on encouraging words for the nugget. In the cockpit she'd borrowed, hr mouth went dry and she felt the beginnings of her own panic. At the realization that she didn't have the words; she couldn't form even a few simple sounds to tell the fresh rook even something cliche like _'You're ready' _or _'Trust yourself'_

She couldn't say it to someone else...because she couldn't say it to herself.

That confidence that came in her first moments back in the fray had somehow vanished. Leaving behind the most dangerous of things a pilot can be afflicted with.

Doubt.

You doubt, you hesitate, you die.

Coming fast on the cylons, it seemed every bit of her was now taking part in the uneasiness her mind had originated. Every piece of her that been marked by another's action's; every past mar that hindered her in any way was speaking out in it's own way.

Her fingers were painfully stiff, wrapped aroudn the lever. Her knee became immensely weaker, requiring more and more force to keep her speed steady. Her skull pounded, encased in the protective helmet. Her back ached, her chest quivered with shuddering breath.

Closer and closer.

Barolay's words: _"Here we go."_ echoed.

She was vaguely aware of someone's voice in her space. A voice, she thinks it was speaking to her. She's not sure who it is or what they're saying.

All she can hear is her heart thumping in her ears. the only voice she can decipher was the one in her head; the one saying:

_This was a bad idea. I'm not ready. I can't do this._

At least she prayed to Gods it was in her head. Prayed she hadn't accidentally spoken those thoughts into the mic for everyone to hear.

If she wasn't ready now...how long would it be until she was? Maybe never.

Frak. Oh Gods.

Close enough, now, she saw the red living light of one particular raider.

Closer and closer.

And he was gunning her way. The pulsing eye bore into her; looking right into her and cutting her freshly apart.

It was on a dead run. Head on, directly ahead of her and bearing down.

It had her.

She knew.

It had her, dead to rights.

This was it. The great Starbuck taken down by a toaster, not because it was better than her, because she let it. Because she'd jumped in too soon. Because her cocky impulsive actions finally caught up with her in the worst way.

_Sorry Lee. Guess you bucked again, all for nothing._

Here it came; another moment and it would be over. All of it.

She felt herself take a deep breath as she tried to brace herself for pain, or clarity, or emptiness or whatever it was that came in the moment of your death.

Then there was an explosion.

A bright light filled her eyes and she realized quickly that it was gone and she was not. She was still there.

Flying through it's debris. She glanced down as her breath came slow and controlled. Her hand on the trigger. It was her. Not a wingman coming to her rescue at the last second. Her. Starbuck, her instincts took over and she'd come out on top. She let out a laugh and all the doubt and weight was gone as if it never existed. She let out a whoop as her voice returned.

"Splash one!" she hollered for all to hear. "That's how it's done! Welcome to the show Big Time!"

"Big Time." she heard Jean repeat with a chuckle. "I"ll take it."

"Alright, we've got metal to scrap." Starbuck announced loudly. "Let's dance."

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	24. How A Resurrection Really Feels

**A/N: Alright, here's the chapter where a whole lotta something starts going down. You thought the last one set you up for the action? Be prepared! Haha...well after that build up I better be able to deliver, huh? I hope this does. P.S. this is possibly the longest of anything I've written, but I knew how I wanted it to start and exactly how it was to end. So there. . . I hope this brings it to your satisfaction.**

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"How does it feel, Starbuck?"

The voice asked in a harsh whisper. The lips close enough to her ear she could feel the breath against the skin.

"How do you feel?" it spoke again, keeping the forearm pressed tightly against the Captain's windpipe; stuck in some sort of headlock while it stood at her back. "Because I'll tell you how I feel: I feel incredible."

Starbuck could feel her anger boiling as it rose to compete against any other emotion even as the pressure kept steady on her air supply.

"See, I spent so much time hating the Cylons. Just as much as everyone else in the fleet. I wondered how something so evil could exist. How anything that claimed to have a soul could do the horrible things they've done." the voice spoke with force; a voice she'd known and heard for years.

"Frak-"Starbuck began to force out, but was cut off by an increase of pressure against her throat.

"I wasn't finished." it announced. "Did I sound finished?"

She could hear a throat being cleared; felt the position of the body behind facing the cold gray of the wall with it at her back; in an obvious disadvantage here.

"But.." beginning again. "it's all so clear now. When I first suspected I might be, the possibility made me sick. I wanted to kill myself. One less cylon in the fleet. I wanted to die, just to resurrect and kill myself again. Over and over."

Starbuck didn't care to hear this story. She didn't need to hear about any toaster moment of clarity and acceptance from this one...one she'd known; worked by, walked these halls everyday just as she did.

"Then it wasn't a suspicion anymore; it was fact. I am a cylon." saying it bluntly. "And it was like a switch flipped and I had my answers. Cylons aren't evil or heartless. They're evolution. _I_ am evolution. Better than any generation before us. The things they've done aren't anything but the natural order of things. The greater destroys the weaker. The greater always outlasts. _I _am greater. All those years and months and days I've seen you believe yourself better than your enemy; better than your peers; I bought into it because I didn't know the truth. You're a speck. A piece of dust in a world of giants. It's nothing personal. It all comes down to fact. Cold, hard math."

Starbuck was suddenly, once again, back in her strange dream. Lee's words, he was right. This person was a cylon. They should have seen it.

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Another burst of flame, signalling the destruction of yet another raider. She grinned happily at the result before her, but couldn't help wanting to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

The baseship wasn't budging. It didn't have to. It was only sending out more and more fighters for every one killed. Sure, those of them left seemed to be holding their own for now, but it wouldn't ...couldn't last much longer. They were a handful of vipers against squadrons of Raiders and their mother ship.

"Galactica, Starbuck." she called. "Not that we're not having a blast out here but what the hell's going on with those FTL's?"

She knew it was probably strange on the other end of the microphone, hearin gher voice speak as if nothing happened. She couldn't know how her latest stunt was going over with the powers that be in the CIC. But there were much bigger fish to fry at the moment.

_"Starbuck, Galactica"_ she heard Dee's voice relay the information to her. _"Two ships still malfunctioning. Estimating another ten minutes."_

"Frak!" she hissed to herself. Ducking away from an oncoming shot. Rolling left, coming up on Barolay who seemed to be thriving in the action fairly well. She was about to say something to the nugget but the newest development stopped her; her eyes widening.

"Galactica we're going to need to find a way to double time those repairs because I seriously frakking doubt we have ten minutes!"

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"Dradis contact!" gaeta announced, almost exactly as the pilots words came through. "Cylon baseship, baring..." he paused, panic filling his next words. "Strike my last. Two baseships just jumped in."

"Oh my Gods." Roslin spoke, certain if she wasn't so shocked she'd be feeling the onset of tears. "Three baseships."

"They can't hold off three for ten minutes." Tigh mumbled. "This'll be over in ten seconds."

"All batteries!" Adama ordered to those at the specific stations. Then speaking in a quieter voice not meant for the entire room to hear. "We'll stand as long as we can but-"

Adama halted his words, his old friend finishing the morbid thought neither of them really cared to consider.

"But we may have to cut our losses soon. " he spoke, looking up at the screen. "Jump to the fleet, with or without those ships."

The president put a hand to her chest, feeling her heart ache for the possibility.

"All those people..." she whispered.

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_"Apollo, Starbuck."_ he heard. _"You seeing this?"_

"I'm seeing it." he answered, feeling a spark of fear in his stomach before he forced himself to shove it away for later. "You know the drill people. We do our jobs until we're called back to the nest!"

_"Remind me what I missed about this."_

"The pleasure of my company." Apollo answered back before banking and getting himself into a current attack.

In her helmet, she heard Kat's voice criticizing her and Apollo.

_"Really? You're gonna make jokes?"_

"Sometimes you gotta laugh to keep from crying, Katraine." she tossed back. Before returning to business. "Rough and Ready. Let's go."

The pilots scattered, firing and ducking and dodging and weaving for their lives. There weren't that many of them to begin with, and already the screams filled the frequency of falling soldiers who wouldn't be returning to their bunks that night. There were too many of them.

"_Heavy Raiders!"_ Kat's voice again in her ear. _"Looks like a dead run to Galactica."_

As it was announced to her, she manuevered herself in an aboutface in time to see a pair of the machines headed for the military ship. She'd heard what happened while she was on Caprica. Heavy raider had been used to let loose all sorts of cylon hell on Galactica. They couldn't let that happen again.

"On it." she informed, begining her run to their tail.

_"Starbuck, This is Actual." _Adama's voice in her head surprised her. He spoke loudly at her. _"Baseship's got nuke's on Inchon Vale." _he informed. _"You stop those missles from hitting their target!"_

"Wilco!" she shouted back to hear herself over the sounds of the fight.

She began her path towards the civilian ship that had been targeted. Shooting and weaving her way there. She saw the nuke's on en route. Three of them.

"Frak." pushing farther.

She figured Lee had gotten a similar message as she spared a glance and saw his viper making a dart towards the Rising Star behind missles heading towards it. As she pushed harder, she lined up and fired and saw her shot take out one of the nukes. It spun away and burst harmlessly in open air.

"All vipers, those Heavies _do not_ reach Galactica." she ordered as she took a shot at the second and watched it blow. She was too busy and now too far away to take care of the impending vehicles herself.

_"Starbuck, Kat. I'm on it."_

_"Kat, HotDog, heading that way."_

_"This is Strummer, already on it."_

Starbuck had to shoot at a Raider that decided to get in her way. That last missle was getting far too close. She had a small window of stopping it now before it reached the zone in which even her destroying it would cause damage to the ship. She tried to block out everything else and see only what was in front of her.

But Strummer's death got through. The pilot's on his wing screaming his name as his mic went dead.

_Focus, damn it!"_

Coming into a clear space. No more raiders in her way. She had it now, and just in time. She fired the shots to take down the final missle. Suddenly, a burst of flame erupted between her shot and the nuke. A raider strayed into the line of fire and took the hits she'd fired. She cursed as she realized now there was no way to avoid the ship taking some damage.

"Inchon Vale! Inchon Vale!' she hailed in a panic as she pushed forward to stop it seconds before it could hit. "Brace for impact. Repeat, brace for impact!"

Praying her warning had been heard, Starbuck forced herself to her fastest speed, feelin the force of it pressing her body against the seat. The pressure against her chest ached and she fired. The last chance she'd get to stop it.

This time she hit her mark without interruption, but could see the ship's exterior shudder where it had blown. Plates of steel detaching from the body and floating away in space.

"Shit." she remarked to herself angrily for what had happened. "Frakking shit! Gods damn it!"

She flipped end over end to turn the other way. take her anger out on the toasters that deserved every last drop of it. However, she only got the chance to take down one more raider before a sight surprised her. The baseships were jumping away?

Before she could voice her confusion, Dee's voice came once again.

_"Galactica to vipers, all ships return to base. Repeat all ships return to Galactica for emergency jump."_

Apparently the FTL's were ready to get the hell out of dodge. Or perhaps they were just going to take the momentary blessing from the cylon's abrupt departure to cut their losses and return to the fleet; the ever decreasing human race.

The just landed pilots all waited until the lurch of the jump had passed before any of them exited their respective cockpits. Once they were safe - or at least safer than they were - she began her shut down process.

"Captain." she heard Chief greet her as he handed her the post-flight checklist. "Good to have you back; getting your hands dirty with the rest of us."

"Yeah." she answered somberly. Thinking her hands weren't so much dirty as they were bloodied. She wondered how many people were hurt or worse now on Inchon Vale because of her foul up. "Shut down complete."

Reaching out to hand it back to him, she had to look over when he didn't take it. He was still standing there, but wasn't paying attention to anything really. He seemed distracted by something; off in his head somewhere.

"Chief."

"Yeah." he quickly answered then accepted it. "Sorry sir."

She sighed pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut. Talk about hitting the ground running, of all attack scenarios for her to come back on, this one was fight. Unclipping her collar, she pulled herself out of the borrowed viper, wishing it were hers that she had flown in, but not complaining in the least. As soon as her feet hit the deck people were around her.

Sweaty suited crew members. Pilots, deckhands, etc. Their voices coming at her from all directions. Happy words of congratulations and welcome back. Invites to card games offers of drinks and smokes. Questions and praise.

Swarms of pats and nudges that took her by suprise with their bobardment. She could feel her body jerk and tighten from every one. Doing her best to play it off, pretend it all wasn't making her want to take off in a mad dash away from them all.

She forced herself through the mob, wondering where they'd all come from. It felt like everyone had decided at once to be there. Her muscles were on edge, she found almost her entire focus was on keeping herself calm and collected as she made her way through. Keeping her eyes straight, trying desperately not to get overwhelmed.

A group stood now, blocking the hatch she'd been making her way to. Her feet planted before she could run into them. She turned from them, searching for the easiest way to another exit. All this time she'd spent wishing to get back on the deck and now all she wanted was to get away. Everywhere was blocked by bodies.

Touching her hand to her forehead, feeling the sweat there. How much from the fight, how much was now from this? She removed her hand, turning around in place as they now began clapping rhythmically and someone had started up a chant of her call sign.

"Starbuck! Starbuck!" the roar of their individual voices rang together to make one booming sound.

It was all she could hear. people were still giving her sporadic pats on the back or shoulders. Becoming more and more affected by it all, a few of the more forceful impacts had her lurch after the contact or jerk away noticeably from the touch.

She knew it was all definitely reaching the top off point. She was unsure, afraid even, of what her reaction might be if she couldn't get the hell away from all this soon. her name being hollered all around her, the applause it's thunderous partner.

Starbuck finally pushed her feet forward, Not caring about anyone in her way. she shoved her way through them, knocking a few over. Each time her body touched against another, she felt everything intensify.

Finally finding her way out the other end, she broke though into the corridor. Jogging a few feet away from it all, she stopped; mainly because if she didn't stop to finally get a breath she might pass out. Halting abruptly in the hall, she bent over and braced her hands against her knees. taking deep breaths, the air entered her lungs at a rate that she was nearly gasping for it. As if she'd been underwater or running for miles.

Putting a palm flat against her chest, breathing heavy in and out, she could feel her heart slamming fast under her hand.

_Calm down. It's ok. Easy Kara. _The voice in her head spoke to her. _Feel your feet on the ground. Your weight on your feet. The weight is holding you here. You're here. _

She felt a hand on her back interrupt her attempt at putting Farrow's method to the test. The blonde jolted upright, immediately stepping back and cocking her fist for a strike.

"Hey." he said carefully, putting his hands up in surrender. His words were genuine despite their predictability. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah." she lied.

Maybe it wasn't completely a lie. She knew she was in fact ok as in she was safe. She was alive. She made it through and back from the fight. But at the moment she was obviously still revved up from everything that she didn't feel all that 'ok'. She looked over at him as she leaned her back against the wall. The look on his face told her he didn't believe her. Big surprise.

"Really?" he asked skeptically, stepping closer. He rubbed a hand to his chin which appeared to be in need of a shave. "Starbuck i know would be bathing in that." he indicated towards the hangar deck.

"Yeah well, she deserved it." she replied with a shrug. "I screwed up."

"Were we in the same fight?" he asked, "Kara you did great." he defended. "Look we were all dealt an impossible hand out there. Coming away with some structural damage? That's a scratch compared to how it could've panned out."

He had figured as soon as it happened that she'd be giving herself a hard time about it. In all the time they'd flown together he knew her to be cocky and arrogant and stupid when it came to what she did in the air. However, he also knew her to be severely critical of her mistakes; even the slightest one that no one else saw, in private she constantly berated herself for things she could've done better. Obviously that hadn't changed. But he couldn't be upset or anything other than overjoyed by the job she'd done.

Once out of his bird, his instinct was instantly to run to her. Scoop her up in a tight embrace before her boots could touch down. But he somehow had the will power forced by the common sense that being bombarded wouldn't go over too well with her just yet.

"I should've been able to stop it long before it got that close." she argued. "It's a civilian ship, it's not built to withstand what we can."

"You're right." he said with a sigh. "You're right. You're a screw-up." he spoke getting her direct eye contact. "What were you thinking putting your life on the line for everyone? How dare you, Kara Thrace, blow through impossible odds and save the thousands of people on that ship from annihalation?" he shook his head with a small chuckle. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"

"Coming from you?" she teased. "All I hear sounds ridiculous."

Still leaning against the wall, her heart had finally begun calming down; breathing returning to normal pace. He smiled at her ragging on him.

"Kara," putting a hand in his pocket, running the other through his hair. "You did great. Honestly. I could have done-" catching himself before he set himself up for another hit; she grinned at it. Telling him she would have definitely made him pay for finishing that sentence.. "I couldn't have asked for a better job. I wanted to tell you that right away, but your uh, fan club kind of swept you away."

"Yeah." looking back the way she'd come. "it's funny, I guess I'm...not use to the noise yet. I mean, I've been back and I'm used to noise but I.." she sighed. "I'm not really sure what I mean."

She shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the unfinished statement and looked to her shoes for a few seconds.

"So." she started, trying to change the subject. "I noticed you weren't a memeber of the club in there. What's up?"

"No, I," he grinned a bit again. Looking to her. "I like the quiet. You know?" getting a nod of from her; understanding what he was saying. How it matched with some of what she was trying to say. She'd literally made a run for quiet breathing space. "Besides, your ego is healthy enough. I refuse to feed it anymore."

"Too late."

The two shared a chuckle, Lee feeling the comfort in it; the familiarity.

"How much heat you think we'll get for this adventure?" she asked with a smile.

"Well, I bust you out." he recalled. "Unlawfully releasing a prisoner from custody...My second offense by the way." He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "But you escaped custody, stole a military vessel and flew it without clearance."

"Looks like I win again."

"You see, on paper I'd say we're both pretty screwed." he shrugged his shoulders. "_But_, the Admiral likes you. He also happens to be my father. So I'd say you'll be cleared and I'll get the airlock."

"Nice knowing you." she played along. "But the Old Man-"

The intercom interrupted whatever it was she was about to say to him. The voices instructing that both of them go to the Admiral's quarters. No doubt for their punishment.

"Speak of the devil." Lee mused. "Time to face the firing squad."

He turned after getting a nod from her and began down the way, noticing after a few steps that she wasn't with him. He turned around to see her going the opposite direction. Confused her called out to her.

"Kara." she turned. "Where are you going?"

"To get a simple pleasure before I'm returned to _my_ quarters." she responded.

"But what about-"

"Tell them you didn't see me after. Or that I took off." she answered. "Tell them whatever you want. Add a shower to my list of offenses." Speaking as she began backing away to continue moving her preferred direction. "Maybe we'll get the same airlock."

Then she turned a corner and was gone. Leaving Lee with a smile and another sense of familiarity. She was doing what she wanted, while he covered, cleaned or faced down the rest of it. A less missed memory, but he welcomed it nonetheless.

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About the open the hatch to the Senior Officers bunk, she had to step back. The door pulling open quickly and HotDog went storming out and past her without sparing a glance. The usually lighthearted pilot walked away with stern heavy steps,

She wondered briefly what was bothering him but dismissed it and said nothing. Knowing how it felt when you just had to get away; not wanting any discussions or questions along the way. She didn't know what had him so upset but so far it wasn't her business and she would keep it that way.

Continuing through the hatchway, she reached to close the door behind her. Surprised to see a slight shake in her hand. Ok, maybe she still wasn't completely calmed just yet and the near run-in with Costanza had caught her off guard. She shook her hand in the air and flexed the fingers a few times while heading to her locker.

"Starbuck." she heard the greeting, knowing right away who it belonged to.

"Kat." she replied, as the woman closed her own locker and made herself visible to the captain. Clearing her throat she spoke. "That was a good job, the heavy raider."

"I didn't get a cheering section when I got back," she responded. "but the job got done."

Starbuck still felt the bitterness that always lived in the words Kat had for her. Choosing not to respond - she was still pretty tightly wound it seemed - she just opened her own locker to retrieve her shower kit.

"Speaking of," Kat began again. "what're you doing here? Thought for sure you'd still be bathing in all that crap."

"Though wrong." she answered without looking at her.

"Either that or back in the brig you busted out of." she continued, stepping over to lean on a random locker near her superior officer. After a pause, the woman she spoke to not responding to her, she continued. "Come on, give me credit. You're not on roster. You snuck in in someone else's viper. Nobody knew you were coming. You busted out."

"And what if I did?" she asked, finally turning to face her. "You gonna turn me in? Tell on me?"

"Relax Captain." the curly haired woman instructed. "Believe it or not I actually didn't come to bust your balls."

"Is there ever another reason you talk to me?"

"Look I just thought I'd tell you..." she paused and it was noticeable that it wasn't something she was happy to say. "...you didn't do a horrible job out there today." the other woman suprised by the roundabout comment. "And about the nuke, you know, shit happens."

Kara only nodded her thanks. Still not sure about taking this at face value. She didn't need any forced praise or kindness just because she had a rocky first time back out.

"Don't get used to this." Kat suggested, backing away. "I still can't stand you."

"Back at you." she replied before the girl exited the room, not bothering to close the hatch behind her. Kara briefly wondered if she had something to do with HotDog's strange mood. There were rumors about the two of them back before New Caprica. Now she didn't know what the hell the scuttle was. She never really cared for it. Just stuff you hear at card tables.

A few minutes later, she found the showers to be thankfully empty, she let out a sigh of relief. She just wanted a shower then she'd deal with whatever else there was coming her way.

Stepping under the warm spray, she felt the remaining tension begin to give way. Letting it pour over her as events of the day played through her mind. Glancing over herself, watching the water cascade over the skin she could see; the scars she could see. She gave attention, one at a time, to each of them.

Her upper arm, along the bicep to near the shoulder, it looked like a starburst. She traced it with her two fingers. The first raider she'd nailed.

Then down to her left side, along the rib cage; that was another kill.

Another along her midsection, she traced the short line of pink tight skin. Another dead raider.

The next she went to was an old one; the bullet she took on Caprica. Another scar, another kill.

She didn't trace the mystery scar she'd gotten on the same planet. Didn't go near it.

Instead her fingers traveled, next, up to her throat. She couldn't see it without a mirror, but she knew it was there. The one she'd given herself in her escape.

For every scar, a dead Cylon Raider. She didn't know what her back looked like. She knew it wasn't pretty. Knew it was etched with stories of misery; ones she didn't care if she every actually saw. All she knew was one of the them cut through her tattoo. The pyramid on her shoulder blade. Only knowing that becaust the Three who'd torn it made a comment about it with a mock apology. That was the one that peaked over, the one that she'd caught the Old Man staring at what felt like a million years ago.

She finished up her shower, lettin the warm water run down all seen and unseen marks of her body. After drying and dressing, she stepped towards a sink and looked into the mirror. She still looked like Kara thrace, the one she'd always been. And she knew she still was; somewhere behind everything that made her feel otherwise.

Back at her locker, Kara replaced the kit where she'd always kept it and prepared herself for a very late face to face with the Old Man. Maybe get wind of what reprimand tossed Lee's way. She gazed at the small mirror on her open door. Getting a look, now, at the scarred line across her throat.

It saved her life. Or, if they didn't kill her, it saved her from whatever life they had planned for her. Which, no doubt, was something much worse than any death she could suffer. If it wasn't for convincing the Six; If that other Six hadn't forgotten the syringe...

She suddenly had an image thrust over her mind's eye.

_"Do you remember me?"_

The Six. The one in custody. The one called Caprica. The one that had forgotten the instrument that lead to her escape. They were the same. The Six she'd seen was the one who she'd met on New Caprica. It left the syringe on purpose. That's why it asked that question with a straight face. It wasn't goading her, it was hoping she could tell the difference and recognize the cylon as the one who'd spoken to her.

The loud sound of the hatch opening brought her out of her epiphany. Making her jump and slam the locker quickly. Turning to face the newest presence, the usual preparation in her muscles she'd gotten used to whenever something took her by surprise. Now, surprise, however was an understatement when she witnessed the President of the COlonies enter the bunk room.

Maybe she was in more trouble than she thought if the president was tracking her down. What more could they do?

"Captain Thrace." the woman greeted, glancing around the room. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, ma'am." she answered tightly, standing erect.

"Excellent." Roslin remarked before closing the hatch behind her and twisting the lock.

"With all due respect," Kara began, "what are you doing here?"

"I was told I might find you here. When Major Adama showed up to his father's office alone, we all had a little chat. "she informed. "And I came to the thought it was time you and I spoke candidly as well."

"If you say so Madame President." she answered, still wondering what the outcome was that this woman now had planned out for her.

Laura looked around the room she'd never been in, stepping awkwardly a few steps. Even though she was president, she'd never ventured into the pilot's bunkrooms. They were reserved spaces; the place the men and women risking their lives nonstop could take a moment to breathe.

"I want to say first," she began stepping closer to where the soldier stood. "what i should said a long time ago, and many times since. And that's thank you. For everything you've done. Your work with the resistance on New Caprica. Your tireless efforts to fight back against the Cylons, your sacrifices in defense of the people -"

"I'm," she cut off the older woman's sentence. "I'm sorry to interrupt Madame President but I hope you'll forgive me for being confused. You didn't find me to give me an unnecessary thanks."

"Unnecessary?" she questioned, surprised by the response, but decided instead to digress. "I found you to have a discussion we should have had already." she answered. "And to say a few new things based on your recent..activities."

Kara nodded and waited for the leader to speak, wondering what time it was. It was already so late when all of this started.

"I was in detention as well on New Caprica, I'm not sure if you're aware." she paused, looking for her answer. Seeing the younger woman shake her head No, she continued. "I was taken from the school and put in a room the size of a closet. They had taken my shoes and glasses and left me there with a light shining down that was so bright it hurt my eyes."

Kara listened to her retelling; never knowing any of this. It's hard to keep updated on all the happenings from your own personal room in hell.

"Until Gaius Baltar showed up, asking me to stop the insurgency; stop the questionable tactics being used." she recalled. "then I walked out the door. The next and last encounter I had came when I was round up along with hundreds of others to be shot by a centurion firing squad.

Starbuck remembered her meeting with the former president. the list he'd put in her face. Said she had the power to stop it. But she didn't. She refused to help the Cylons in anyway. It almost cost so many lives, including the woman standing in front of her. But she knew had she to do it over again, she'd make the same choice. Keeping the information from them was vital.

"Don't misunderstand," Roslin began again before Kara had the opportunity to speak. "I don't tell you this because I think it comapres in any way to your experience. I'm telling ou simply so we might be able to get some sort of balance. I know ...some of your ordeal from Dr. Farrow. i think it only fair that I offer something to you in return before I ask you for more."

Pain for pain. She supposed that Farrow had shared Kara's preferred dialogue with Roslin.

"More?" she asked. "Wh-" clearing her throat. "What more? What do you want to know?"

Laura looked around them again, as if not 100% sure they were in fact alone. She moved closer and spoke with a quieter voice.

"The five." she spoke quietly. "Forgive me, Captain Thrace, but you were among them the longest of anyone who's lived to tell. I need to know...Did you see anything, hear anything, catch wind of _anything_ about the final five cylons? Something that might indicate who they are." she paused. "Please if there's anything-"

"There's not." she spoke firmly. Looking away from the redhead, she shook her head.

"Among them?" Kara repeated, disgust and disbelief in the words before facing the woman once again. " I wasn't 'among them'. We weren't hanging out tossing 'em back and swapping war stories! I wasn't given a special sit-in on their brainstorming, I was-" she finally caught herself as her voice raised and on the verge of spilling gritty details about her stay. Lowering her voice, "They didn't share any secrets with me. I never heard or saw anything about any-"

_The bright glow silhouetted her fingers and her voice spoke without her control. One word and she didn't know why._

_"Five."_

_The brightness illuminated even more for a few seconds before dying down._

Starbuck's breath hitched as the scene from the dream flashed over her eyes. She braced her palm against the metal lockers, stumbling back a few steps.

Roslin immediately felt a painful remorse upon seeing the strange reaction. The young woman nearly tripped backward over her own feet in the middle of her words. Something affected her that much, causing the physical response. Curiously yet also feeling incredibly guilty for whatever part she'd played in bringing it out, Laura felt the maternal instinct her sisters had always teased her for kick up. She stepped towards her as she did so:

"I'm sorry." instantly apologizing. "Are you ok?" reaching out to help, possibly guide her to a seat on the bench or whatever necessary. But the blonde put her hand up, keeping her at arm's length, keeping her from doing so as she seemed to get over whatever it was that struck her so.

"Don't." she told her, keeping the woman from touching her, the last thing she needed was to lose it on the President. "Please."

"I'm terribly sorry. I-I didn't mean to imply that what you went through wasn't awful." then again. "I'm sorry."

"Can I ask you a question; a personal one?" she spoke up, the remnants of the dreams image still a dull buzz.

"Seems only fair."

"When you had cancer," she began, definitely a personal question. "you were, you believed you were the dying leader. That that was your...destiny." she hated that word anymore.

"Very much."

"What do you believe now? Now that your cancer's gone and you're not dying any quicker than you normally would?"

"I believe my role has already been chosen." she answered with a sigh. This was a question she asked herself many times since the surprise cure of her disease. "My part has been assigned, my path written. I still believe I'm meant to lead us to a new home on Earth regardless of any reprieve my blood tests may show....Destiny finds you."

Starbuck stared now at her, her final words._ No, no no._ The same words Roslin had spoken to her in the dream. The same three frakking words she'd heard from her right before she fell through the vent. What was going on? That stupid frakked up dream. What was it all supposed to mean?

Destiny? Frak that. Frak any destiny the cylon's thought she had for them.

"I make my own destiny." she said bitterly in a quiet tone to herself. She shook her head and covered her eyes with her hand a moment, wishing to make sense of everything.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Roslin asked. "It's been a long day, topped off with quite a fight. I've heard it's common to get bumped on the head during combat landings. Should I get Dr. Cottle?"

She shook her head, finally something in the conversation she was sure about.

"No," removing her hand. "Thank you, but I don't need him. Besides that old grouch will probably tear me a new one when he finds out I flew without medical clearance. He's still pissed at me for pinching a cigarette when I left the bay."

"I'm certain that's all true," she tried to speak lightly. "But you may have a concussion if you did hit your head." to which Starbuck offered a chuckle and a smirk.

"I don't. Trust me, Madame President," she began as she straightened up. "You don't grow up with Socrata thrace without learning real fast what I concussion feels like."

Roslin had had a small smile playing at her lips upon hearing the pilot's small laugh. The first evidence of something other than torment she'd seen from her. But she felt it automatically drop from her face by the end of her last statement. She stood, surprised by the words; the accidental revelation of what Laura suspected to be a deep guarded secret. Though she hadn't straight out said the words, she was sure she already knew what it meant.

"What?"

Kara had barely realized the words she'd let slip before Roslin responded with her question. Stupid dream, long ass day, it was messing her all up. There were only two people in the human population who knew. Well one, without Samuel.

And Cottle only knew because of the damned x-rays, but didn't have any of the details.

Before she could speaking something to try to backpedal, the room rocked as an explosion was heard from somewhere nearby. Thinking quick, Kara forced the president to the ground. It lastely only a moment or two, no more. She stood carefully, glancing to the leader.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes, Yes I'm fine." she asnwered quickly, looking around with wide eyes. "What was that?""

"I don't know." she replied honestly.

Moving to her locker, she pulled out her holster and attached them. Checking her weapons for ammunition - it had been so long shince she'd worn them; felt their weight in her hand - she moved towards the hatch.

"Stay here." she instructed.

Entering the corridor, she kept her weapon at the ready. For some reason she just didn't think it was some kind of mechanical accident that rumbled the ship. Taking a few cautious steps, her back against the wall as she moved, she felt another. The ground vibrating underneath her feet.

She instinctively crouched low, the lights going out as the blow ended. Standing up again, she crept at a quick, quiet speed, searching for an answer. that's when she heard the gun fire. Coming to a corner, she peered around it.

She couldn't tell who it was, but someone was now lying on the steel ground, from the looks of it they were dead. Then a shot meant for her, she heard it ricochet off the steel instead. She pulled back behind the safety of the corner before returning to fire a few of her own.

Then more came her way. This time accompanied by the too familiar sound of the rhythmic clanging footsteps coming her way.

"Shit."

She took off as fast as she could. heading quickly back where she'd come. Flying through the hatch and locking it. She backed away, keeping her eyes and weapon trained on it as her empty hand reached to enable her other gun. With both barrells aimed at the door, she heard the woman speak from behind her.

"What's going on?" the panicked voice was quiet in the dark.

"Cylons." she answered, taking a moment before actually facing the frightened woman. "We've been boarded."

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_**a/n2: I know! How freaky long was that right? I hope you liked it! I told you I had some actions a-comin! _

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	25. Matters Of Blood And Connection

**A/N: Many, many many mucho apologies. To repeat the reasons I explained at the beginning of another story of mine, school's been crazy. Definitely a lot more work than I remember. That plus all the germs and sicknesses floating throughout my house from person to person have been the cause for the major delay. Once again I'm not a huge fan of the chapter I'm about to give to you and I hope you forgive me for it if you feel the same, but again it sets up where I want it to go for the next.**

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Laura could only stare for what felt like too much precious time; the words seemed to simply hang in the air around her. She searched for some sign that it was some poor tactless joke on the pilot's part. But unfortunately she was luckless.

Again? How had this been able to happen again?

Looking around the room, Roslin couldn't help but notice there was only one way in or out. Only one door, the door which the Captain had turned her trained eye and armed weapon on. Was that her plan? Sit and wait and shoot and die? That couldn't be it.

"If they come through that door..." Roslin trailed off, the first thing she'd spoken aloud since Starbuck had told her in a short sentence their situation.

As soon as she spoke it, she could practically see the other woman's mind working. It was a few moments or less, Kara's voice came quietly. Barely a whisper, almost as if it were spoken more to herself than to anyone who might've been with her at the moment.

"I've been here before."

"I know how you feel." Roslin answered, taking a breath as she remembered the same feeling of dread and fear from the last time she lived through this. One Cylon boarding raid was more than enough for her lifetime.

"No." Starbuck surprised her by shaking her head, looking, not at Roslin, but at the room they stood in. "I mean, I've been _here._ This exact moment."

"I don't understand." she couldn't afford her only source of even the slightest chance of surviving start to lose it.

"We're supposed to..." Kara trailed off, the president only becoming more confused and nervous as she could now hear gunfire much too close for her liking. Starbuck finally found the spark she'd been looking for and pointing. "...there."

"What?" Roslin didn't know what the pilot was doing but she didn't have the spared second to ask before the blonde was pulling herself up onto one of the bunks.

The questions on her tongue were silenced by Starbuck, with some effort, removing the grate covering the vent.

"Come on." she instructed as soon as it was off.

Wasting no more time with questioning her thoughts or behavior, Laura jumped at the chance of another way out that didn't involve a hail of bullets. Accepting the hand that was offered to make her ascent easier, she joined the pilot on her knees on the top bunk.

"Thank you." she said, habitually polite.

She certainly wasn't in the same physical standing as the younger woman, so – while Laura was far from invalid – the help definitely sped things along.

"In." another instruction from Starbuck. It wasn't particularly spacious, but there was room to breathe and room to move. So Laura less then gracefully obeyed, pulling her body into the duct.

Commenting quietly to herself as she did so: "In we go."

Crawling a short distance from the opening, giving enough space for the other woman to come in behind her, Laura turned her head in time to see the cover being set back into place.

"What are you doing?" she asked right away. Forcing the movements to turn her body around in the small space, she returned to the entrance. She spoke through the grate, seeing through the obscured vision it offered that she was no longer on the bunk. "Captain Thrace."

In calling out, Laura then remembered the young Adama's words to her a lifetime ago; the last time she felt the same fear she felt now. _"We're going towards the gunfire."_

Roslin pressed against the steel until it fell out of it's fitted place. Almost completely falling onto the bed, she braced her hands against the mattress, holding herself that was while she glanced out across the room. Starbuck cast her eyes up to the older woman who'd emerged from the space enough to reveal herself to any trigger happy toasters that may wander in.

"What the hell you are you doing?" she asked angrily.

"Captain Thrace," she spoke out again. "this is a bad idea."

"With all due respect," Starbuck spoke without looking at her. Instead she pressed her back against the wall by the hatch and double checked her ammunition. "shut the frak up."

Laura could see the blonde was already prepared to go charging to them; to kill them and most likely already prepared – and possibly expecting – to die while doing so.

"Do you think you'll find what you're looking for by doing this?"

"Dead toasters?" she responded. "Yes. Now shut your mouth and move your ass."

"You won't find any vindication by getting killed!" Roslin hissed at her. She knew this was stupid. Laura also knew that, being President, her survival was a priority. But she couldn't turn and run and hide and let the woman goes off to certain death if she didn't have to. At least not yet, being on this side of the fight, it was bound to come one day, but it didn't have to be today. Didn't have to be right now when Laura could stop it.

"Get back in there and keep your damn mouth shut or you'll find out first hand whether or not that's true!"

"I will when you will."

Roslin was certain, after that response, that Starbuck may soon start contemplating shooting her herself just to shut her up. But she didn't care. She wouldn't sit twirling her thumbs while Starbuck and her thick thick skull charged straight to death without a chance of pulling through the fire.

Not like this.

The captain angrily tok steps from her spot, coming closer to the president. She hissed at her, probably the only thing she could do to keep from shouting at her and letting any nearby metal men aware.

"What the hell's the matter with you Roslin?" she asked, not waiting for any answer. "This isn't some protest. There aren't negotiations. There's shooting and there's dying. Unless you want to take part in either -" her words cut off by a loud bang that sounded just outside the hatch. On the hatch?

"Go!" she demanded to the redhead, posing turning back to the face the entrance with her gun drawn. She hadn't planned to be met with them in the room, but nonetheless here it was. Glancing quick behind her. "Go!"

"Captain Thrace." she heard her name in the woman's obviously more frightened now. "Kara!"

She didn't acknowledge it. Fine. If Roslin wanted to be an idiot it was her own fault. Again, she heard her name urging for her attention. After another second trying to ignore it, she finally let out a curse.

"Frak!" she growled, turning quick and easily beginning to pull herself up. "Move!"

Speedily following behind Roslin into the vent, she replaced the grate moments before the door was torn from it's locked position. Glancing towards the president, Starbuck held a finger against her own lips, telling the woman to keep quiet. Not that she expected her to start singing their presence.

Two, no, three Centurions entered, guns set in their arms, followed by the unmistakable figure of a Six coming in behind them. That was weird. Why bring a skinjob if it were a simple kill and destroy plan?

She watched the Cylon's head turn in a slow sweep of the room; looking for something. Every second she looked at it, she could feel her heart beat harder. Clenching her jaw tightly, trying to fight the familiar reaction it was inspiring. The Six glanced up, and Kara was certain their eyes had met; that it had seen her. Her hand absentmindedly crept slowly to the gun in it's holster.

Roslin saw this and carefully put her own hand over Kara's stopping her. Roslin took the risk of a possible response from her by taking the action, but she knew the if she were to allow the shot to be taken, yes the Six would be dead but the Centurions in her company would make short work of them. To her surprise and relief, the did nothing to ancknowledge it other than halting the movement. Kara's eyes didn't even leave the scene. As easily as their eyes had seemed to meet, the Cylon turned and walked out of the room followed by the metal soldiers.

Looking down, Kara felt the exhale she'd apparently been keeping in her chest. She closed her eyes, going over Farrow's process in her head. Not realizing until Roslin spoke that she'd been whispering it into the air.

"Are you ok?"

Opening her eyes, she found the president's face looking at her with concern. Starbuck mentally berated herself. She was with the president of the frakking colonies; the only one with her; therefore the only one able to work for her safety at the moment. Freaking out or freezing at the wrong time was a sure way to get the leader killed.

"Great." she answered a little harsher than she meant to. "Sometime's that doc of yours actually know what he's talking about."

The last of the ...attack? Episode or spell, whatever those things were classified as; once it passed, Roslin asked her what they would be doing next.

"What's the plan?"

Starbuck shook her head with a cynical chuckle, the dream making itself known yet again. Word for word it seemed.

"This way." she started crawling, hearing the woman's movement behind her.

"Is there a plan?"

"Arm up, hopefully find some other good guys. Find out what the Cylons want and make sure they don't get it."

"What they want?" she repeated as a question. "Isn't that the most ovious part? They hate us, they want to kill us. I doubt the plan's changed much over the years."

"Yeah." she agreed. "But if they want a strict blood and death scenario, they've got Centurions for that. Sending a skinjob tells us there's more that they're after."

"Oh my gods." Laura breathed as her mind brought her to: "Hera. That has to be it."

"I think you're right." she spoke to the space in front of her while addressing the woman moving close behind her. "At least, partly."

"What else could it be?"

This question had Starbuck stopping her movements and sigh. Adjusting herself to face Roslin as much as she could.

"I think there's a Cylon on Galactica." she answered. "A new one, an agent."

"H-How do you know that?"

"If I was telling anyone else I'd worry about sounding crazier than they all think I am. But since it's you..." she shook her head and said the words. " I had a dream that wasn't just a dream."

"When you said you've been here before..." Roslin now understanding the statement she'd, then, been confused by.

"I saw us being boarded. You and me, right here in the ducts. I saw it in a dream and now we're standing in it. What you said, about destiny finding you, you said that to me." she began explaining, feeling only slightly ridiculous saying it out loud; it probably helped that she was telling this to the person who'd made it wide spread knowledge that she "saw things" in her dreams.

"And the Cylon?"

"I couldn't see their face. But I could tell they were all the same model, and they in flight suits."

"So the agent on board..."

"Is a pilot." she finished. "The cylons had to come on a Heavy Raider. There were two pilots who went after the them. In all the confusion out there, everyone was distracted, Dradis was a mess. We hear on wireless they've shot them down, nobody questions it."

"Ok." Roslin nodded, listening to the reasoning. "Who is it?"

-

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Kat sat crouched in the dark, behind the crate box, holding her gun. After a whole lot of nothing, a lot of sitting around, there was a hell of a lot of action happening now. Hearing footsteps, she gripped her handle tighter and licked her lips in anticipation.

Listening, she waited for them to get a bit closer. She smiled through her fear of all of it before standing up quickly holding out the gun.

"Shit!" she breathed out at the sight. Relaxing a measure. "Ah man, HotDog, it's just you."

"Just me."

-

-

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	26. Who Will Survive And What Will Be Left

**A/N: I liked this one. When I read the finished product over and ran the imaginary scenes through my head, I ended up liking it a lot. Hope you do too. And to put a finish to a few more notes in my inbox about the titles and the songs, I'm putting the list at the bottom of this. Just skip over if you don't care and I'll just be sure to say it in the a/n's from now on. And one response to a review...Of course I didn't forget you!**

**Last thing, stupid character restrictions on the title didn't allow me to put the whole thing. The entire chapter title is**

**_Who Will Survive And What Will Be Left Of Them._**

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The kickback vibrated the muscles in his hands. It had been a while since he'd had the feeling; since he'd fired a gun.

Sure, he'd been out in the fire fight, shooting left and right, but pulling the trigger in a Viper was a different sensation. Now, however, Lee was jumping right in to old habits. Pulling the triger once more, then ducking his body around the corner as fire was returned in his direction.

"Frak." he voiced as one bullet hit the lsteel a little too close for his liking. He looked at his side to Stingray.

He knew the other pilot was wonderin the same thing as Apollo: _How the hell did this happen? Again? _But they couldn't dwell on questions at the exact moment. There were other things, more important things, to concern themselves with.

What the cylons wanted. How to stop them from getting it.

And selfishly, Lee's mind frantically wondered where his father was; if he had a chance to defend himself or if he, like others, had been caught too off guard. Last he knew the man was in his office. Lee had been there, sumoned along with Kara for a face to face with the Admiral and the President about their little coup. Kara had opted on her own not to attend.

The discussion was...lively. Ending in Roslin suggesting she speak to Kara on her own. Lee left shortly after.

He wondered now if the President had found her before this began; if she'd told her what she went to. The last thing they needed to worry about during an attack such as this was the President of the Colonies wandering alone through the chaos of bullets.

If she was with Kara, she'd be ok. Right? Maybe she wasn't yet back to her old self, but regardless of that, she was still Starbuck. She'd only proven that earlier in the borrowed Viper she'd flown out in.

Stingray pulled back from firing when shots rang out towards him again.

"How many left?" Lee asked.

"Still the same two." he answered, breathing heavily. "They don't go down as easy with regular rounds."

"Yeah." Lee nodded. "I remember."

"What do we do?"

"Keep shooting."

Turning around the blockade, exposing as little of himself as possible while still being able to fire what he wanted to be effective shots. He got a good two shots that clanged off the metal chest. This time, though, he stayed in position even while they returned shots his way. Squaring his jaw and tensing all his muscles, bracing for the possibility of getting ghit, he continued to shoot. Finally getting satisfaction when he sent a number of rounds into it's head and it collapsed in a pile of scrap metal.

His actions seemingly stirring some extra confidence in his shooting partner. Apollo soon had the other man standing beside him, conpletely exposed and firing alongside. By some luck from the Gods, they both stood untouched while their invader ended up in a heap on the ground.

Breathing in pants, Lee turned to Stingray who looked surprised at what had just happened.

"That worked."

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"Helo!"

"Stay back!" he hollered at his wife as he shot down the hall.

Karl took a few steps backwards while he fired. Slowly making his way to where Sharon was without turning his back on his enemy.

The couple had been on a rantic run towards the daycare where their daughter was when a Centurion had surprised them by entering the corridor just before they could take the next turn they needed. Helo nearly took one in the back if not for Sharon's warning to get down. Now, he was trying to kill the frakker whose presence was now keeping them from reaching Hera.

Sharon hadn't even wanted to leave her with the daycare to begin with. But when the attack came down, she was already on duty and he needed to be in CIC while the pilots used everything they had in the sky. So Helo had dropped her off on the way.

Now, the parents were only two corridors from her.

"Sharon!" he shotued over the sound of his own gun. "Sharon, go!"

"Helo," he could hear her voice; she was going to argue.

She was going to say she wouldn't leave him alone, something like that. He absolutely loved her for it, but they both knew thie was bigger than the two of them. They just got Hera back, they had to keep her safe.

"Sharon, get to Hera!" he screamed without looking away from his target. He heard her take off soon after, and took a breath of relief that she would get to their daughter even if he couldn't.

"Just you and me, you song of a bitch."

-

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"Where are we going?" Laura asked as she followed crawling behind Kara.

"Sickbay." she announced. "It's set up to be a -"

"A shelter of sorts." she finished between breaths, interrupting her. "For emergencies, yes, I remember Lee told me that once."

"He's right."

"I don't suppose you'll be joining me in staying there?" she asked already knowing the answer.

"Nope."

"Didn't think so." she answere, her knees starting to hurt.

"There'll be plenty of people to keep you company." Kara spoke. "And of course the Doc and his shining personality."

Rolsin let out a chuckle at the sarcasm.

"Sure you can't use my help with the cylons?" Laura asked jokingly as they moved. "Sounds more appealing."

Starbuck smirked though she knew the President couldn't see it.

"Guess I gotta be thankful for their timing." Kara thought aloud. "Cylons had waited another minute to show up I'd have been set up all nice and cozy in a cell like frakking target practice."

"Actually that's what I came to talk to you about." Roslin announced. "I know this isn't the time, but I guess if we're gonna die, returning to the brig won't be necessary."

Though they had much more pressing matters at hand, Kara couldn't help but stop for a second at the words.

"Serious?"

"Extremely."

"What did it?" she asked, picking up their movement again. "Can't imagine busting out helped my case."

"It didn't entirely hurt. The fact that you proved you're still dependable when it comes to the wire." the woman trailing informed. "But mostly it was just you. I've been speaking Dr. Farrow, following it. Then of course there's the Agathons."

"You're right, this really isn't the time for this, but what'd they have to do with it?"

"Captain Agathon killed his wife in order for her to get to Hera." Roslin began. "Can't very well lock you up for almost doing something when someone who succeeded goes unpunished."

Roslin was surprised at the brief laguh she heard from the woman ahead of her.

"Gotta love the irony." Starbuck commented. "Free just in time to die."

"I'll save my appreciation until this is over."

"If that's your game, Madame President." she spoke, still smirking. "Alright lookls like we're just about there. How are you holding -"

Roslin didn't hear the rest of her words. Instead there was a quick combination of creaks, clang and a crash. On impulse, Laura covered her head with her hands. When she removed them a second or so after the noise passed she was she was now alone in the steel maze.

Noticing immediately the gap in the surface that was now present where Kara had been. She carefully approached it and peered down. Her eyes finding the pilot on the ground many feet below already moving to pull to herself up. "Are you alright?"

"Great." she answered sarcastically as she groaned. She had not been expecting that. "Fan-frakking-tastic."

Standing up, she arched her back, which would certainly be one of many things sore for the next few days after that adventure, to stretch it out and try to ease away some of the shock.

"What happened?"

"I fell." she answere Roslin, then looked up to where she could see the woman looking down at her. "I'd think that was obvious."

"It is, but why?" she asked. "Did something break it?"

Kara glanced quickly once around and saw no one, or nothing, around her with the intention of killing her. If it had been on purpose, whatever it was would have taken advantage of the situation right away before she could get back to her feet. Next, the blonde picked up the square of steel that had given way beneath her to inspect it.

"Just old metal." she answered the question, coming to the conclusion. Then tossed it back to the ground with a loud clang. "Frakkin' bucket."

Starbuck wiped her hands on her pant legs and took another look at her surroundings to gage the situation. She was in the head. Crash landed right between a row of stalls and the line of sinks. At least it hadn't been on top of either of those, that would have been a much different landing. The noise hadn't been quiet, if something was nearby it would surely have heard. Unless of course there was a hell of a lot of gunfire; which Lords knew was happening all over by now.

"What do we do? Can you get back up?" Laura asked from above. Concerned for bothe of them if that were the case; if she had to keep going alone unsure of where the hell she was or if Kara was now down there unprepared for confrontation.

"Yeah." she concluded.

If she got up to stand on the sink row, it'd be a jump but with luck she may be able to catch the edge of the opening and pull herself in. It'd be work, and it would surely suck, but it seemed the only plausible way to get back up from that room. A grate would be a hell of a lot easier way, but the only one there was not in an area she'd be able to make work without a ladder.

She flexed the fingers on both hands; this wasn't going to feel good at all. Kara came to the edge of the sinks and lifted a boot to brace atop it about to get herself onto the steel when a nosie stopped her. She immediately turned her head in the direction it came from and lowered herself from the position.

That noise didn't come from her and it certainly didn't come from Roslin. Someone else, or something else, was there. If it was a cylon it wasn't smart enough, apparently to make it's move at the most opportune time. Or it had some agenda other than killing her. Or maybe it was just too busy doing something else. Or the final scenario, it wasn't a cylon at all. But knowing she couldn't take the chance, Starbuck was instantly on her guard. She reached a hand to her left holster quietly and found it empty.

Sparing a second for her mind to ask where her gun was. She tried to remember to the moment when she'd started to take it out to shoot the six and was stopped. _Did I not close the strap afterwards?_ She'd been a little distracted, it was possible. If it were the case, it could have been lost when she fell and ended up hiding somewhere in the room.

So she unlocked the weapon on her right and removed it.

"What's going on?" she heard Roslin ask.

Starbuck looked up at her once and signalled her to be quiet, then armed the weapon and started to approach the area the noise had come from. The stalls behind the other side of the sinks. With her gun extended in front of her, she moved closer to them. Pausing a moment, waiting for maybe another noise to give her a more distinct idea of where or what it was.

She stepped in front of the first few in the row, one at a time, and aimed her gun in the already open doors. Then feeling like a cliché in a movie, back when she used to watch movies, when people used to make movies, when there _were_ movies, she started opening the closed doors and pointing the barrell inside with the intent to kill each time. After slowly pushing two with her hand, and finding nothing, she got impatient and graduated to kicking them.

Slamming her boot into one after the other, finding them empty one after the other. There were only three left.

Nothing in the first. Two left. She stopped in front of the second and leaned her head closer to it, she closed her eyes to focus her senses.

There.

The slightest hitch in a breath. She found it, behind this door it was breathing. Which could have told her it wasn't a threat because Centurions don't breath. But on this strange, never ending day, it wasn't just Centurions they were looking out for.

Pulling away from the door, she waited just a moment more wanting to catch whatever it was as off guard as possible so it wouldn't have the chance to see her coming. She took a second and then kicked that door as well.

Her gun at deadly attention right away, the barrell was right in the face of the noisemaker.

-

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**a/n hope you liked it! I did. Apparently there was some really cool BSG tribute at the Scream Awards that I didn't get to see. So if anyone knows a link I can find it at that'd be sweet.**

**Anyway this is the part that you can just skip and scroll past if you don't care. But if you're one of those asking or if you're just curious rock the party and have a read. A few of them are originals by my friend Blake's band called The Blind Kinds. So unless you know them personally you won't be able to give those songs a listen.**

_The Silence of Storms_ – The Blind Kinds

_Everything Old is New Again_ – The Blind Kinds

_Magnolia_ – The Hush Sound

_Quintessence of Dust_ – The Blind Kinds

_You, The Victim of Yourself _– The Blind Kinds

_Prayer for the Refugee_ – Rise Against

_The Sufferer & The Witness _– Rise Against (album title)

_Saints and Sailors_ – Dashboard Confessional

_The Word You Wield_ – Say Anything

_The Same Deep Water As You_ – The Cure

_You're Gonna Need Someone On Your Side_ – Morrisey

_If There's A Rocket, Tie Me to It_ – Snow Patrol

_Several Ways To Die Trying_ – Dashboard Confessional

_X Amount Of Words_ – Blue October

_The Pros And Cons Of Breathing_ – Fall Out Boy

_Versions Of Violence_ – Alanis Morrisette

_The Last Something That Meant Anything_ – Mayday Parade

_Carve Your Heart Out Yourself_ – Dashboard Confessional

_The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me_ – Brand New (album title)

_Games That Play Us_ – The Blackouts

_An Attempt To Tip The Scales _– Bright Eyes

_Don't Let Me Explode_ – The Hold Steady

_How A Resurrection Really Feels_ – The Hold Steady

_Matters Of Blood And Connection_ – Dashboard Confessional

_Who Will Survive And What Will Be Left Of Them_ – Murder By Death (album title)


	27. Into The Nothing

**A/N: Hey hey! I know it's been a while, specifically over two months according to the little updated date listed under the story summary. I sincerely apologize, while things have been hectic lately what with the holidays and visiting family and whatnot, I'll tell you that those aren't the reasons for the gap here. The plain simple fact is, this story requires a certain frame of mind; one that's not always easy to slip in and subsequently out of. And if I try to put something together without being 100% there, it turns out to be a pile not in league with the rest of it. Anyway, I hope you're still here, and still invested. If not, I'll continue anyway because I absolutely have to see this through to the end.**

**Into The Nothing -by Breaking Benjamin**

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* * *

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They moved quickly.

Step by step through the dark corridors. Her back to the wall, Starbuck led the way. She at the front, Roslin at the safer – not safe, just safer – place behind her, and the recently discovered Barolay taking up the back. Kara had found her in the bathroom stall, the nugget tightly clenching her own gun and aiming it at the door ready to fire at Kara the moment she opened it.

A ridiculous accident that was just nearly avoided, instead of the two pilots unintentionally killing one another, the blonde's instinct pulled her aside and away from the sight of the gun. Claiming to have been shaken up by the surprise, Jean told her that she just needed a second.

After giving a quick verbal kick in the ass, Starbuck ordered her out and along with them.

Coming to a corner, she readied her gun and carefully peered around it. Not far off, thirty or forty feet, a stack of crates were visible. But what grabbed her attention in the dim glow of the emergency lights, she could make out an arm laid out from behind them. Though she was well aware it could be anyone, the thought suddenly attacked her: she hadn't seen Lee since this started.

Her training forced her to keep from darting towards it or calling out his name just to see if it was him or not. Instead she gestured for them to follow as she crept closer to their goal...and towards the identify of whoever it was.

-

* * *

_-_

_-_

"Come on, Karl." Sharon Agathon urged quietly as she held tight to her eerily calm daughter. "Daddy'll be here soon, honey."

Her words felt more an attempt to reassure herself more than Hera. But Sharon sat in the day care, holding her baby and praying her husband appeared soon safely.

Panicking as a rather loud round of gunfire was heard, Athena began to think. Going over all structural knowledge of the ship, wondering how safe they and all the other kids in there were. The safest place possible place for this was the Sick Bay.

That was one level up and no doubt there was plenty of Cylons between here and there.

And Karl would come to Day Care to look for them. Even if she managed to safely get there, he could get himself killed trying to get to where they weren't.

Sharon weighed it.

Using her brain to measure the risks. She had a feeling she was about to do something extremely stupid.

Where was Karl?

-

* * *

-

"Ah frak." Kara whispered to herself coming upon the body. Even lowering her gun an inch or so at the sight. "Shit."

"What is it?" one of the others asked, her mind too focused at the unmoving man to determine the specific voice. But she answered regardless.

"HotDog." she replied, staring at the prone body amongst the blood. Too familiar.

Breathing slowly, in her nose and out her mouth. Doing so again and again as she felt the familiar pull attempting to take her mind back. Her heart quickening when a flash overcame her; suddenly HotDog was gone. She was staring at Sam on the ground before her.

"No." she wasn't sure if she was saying it out loud or not. "It's not real."

She could still feel her gun in her hands. She didn't have a gun when Sam was ...if she had, she would've...

"Feet on the ground." she whispered to herself. "Feel..." she squeezed her eyes and willed everything away. Too many things were happening. Too many important things. "Come on. Pull me back. Pull me back."

"Kara." suddenly aware of a hand on her shoulder, a voice saying her name. Like the force of an FTL jump, she felt herself being tugged into reality. Looking to her side, where the president stood, she saw an intense look of concern from the woman who'd somehow managed to bring her back.

"Are you -"

"Fine." she interrupted, wiping the back of a free hand across her sweating forehead. "Let's go."

Continuing onward, passing the dead body of Brendan Costanza, Starbuck was pulling herself together. Speaking quietly, words only for her own ears. Berating herself for the slip. It was dangerous; too dangerous.

"Hey." she spoke up a bit louder, alerting them to another find. Moving up, she came to the pilot sitting on the ground. "Kat. Kat, you alright?"

"She ok?" Roslin asked as she and Barolay joined. Squatting in front of her, no serious wounds visible.

"Looks like shock." Starbuck presumed.

"Probably from finding HotDog like -" Barolay began but was interrupted.

"It's not HotDog." Kat suddenly spoke up; glaring.

"What?"

"The body. It's not Hot Dog. It never was." she elaborated.

"Frak."

-

* * *

-

"Bingo." Starbuck spoke, looking around the final corner. "We get through that hatch, we're a breath away from Sick Bay."

"Any company?"

"Negative Big Time." she answered. "Looks like it's just us, but stay sharp. Everyone."

Jean nodded from the back. Taking a deep breath, she couldn't believe they might actually survive this. It was crazy when she thought about how many times she should be dead. It made her nervous, really. The Gods had to be running short on miracles for her.

"It make you nervous?" Kat asked, slowing her step in front of her so the two then walked side by side.

"What?"

"Following Starbuck; knowing she ain't all there sometimes." she elaborated. "I hear things about her losing it."

"I don't care what people hear." Jean answered. "Far as I'm concerned, she's the one to stand with. Regardless of episodes or whatever. Sam was family, my loyalties are right where they ought to be."

"Makes sense." Kat answered, gazing up ahead at the object of the conversation. "I mean if we think about it, who wouldn't have a screw or two loose after everything right? It had to be hell seeing HotDog that way."

"For all of us." she agreed. "But you did what you had to. He was a toaster, he tried to kill you."

"I mean cause of Anders." she continued. "Seeing HotDog laid out and done like that just how Anders was..."

"Yeah." she answered. "Rough."

They walked a bit more before Jean planted her feet. Kat kept walking a few more steps before Barolay spoke up.

"Wait." she instructed and Kat stopped as well, turning to face her. Their pause unnoticed by the other two women. "We never found Sam." she recalled stepping closer. "You weren't even on the ground on New Caprica, how do you know what he looked like?"

After a silent second without an answer, the two women held eyes. Kat slipping into a small smirk as she saw realization come over the rookie pilot right before she shouted.

"Captain!"

Starbuck spun around poised to fire, at the sound in time to see Jean practically fly off her feet as Kat's bullet hit her in the chest.

"Down!" she ordered Roslin, shoving her down behind a crate as Kat's gun turned towards them.

Ducked behind it, more shots fired at them a second before Kat's voice came.

"Surprise!" she shouted for them to hear. "Got you good didn't I?"

"Frak." Starbuck hissed from her hiding spot, pissed off. "Frak. Frak. You ok?"

"Yes. I'm fine." Roslin assured, just before the pilot rose to fire back two shots before ducking back down next to her.

"Come on, Starbuck." she taunted. "Come out to play."

"Gods damn it." she spoke just for them, then shouted back. "I knew there was a reason I hated you!"

She heard her laugh and her blood boiled.

"HotDog find out?" she asked before firing again. "That why you killed him?"

"Got a little too smart for his own good."

Kara looked to the side where Roslin wasn't saing a word. Fear flying in waves from her. She could almost hear her thoughts; wondering what they were going to do.

Starbuck gestured, mouthing instructions for Laura to stay there. Removing her second gun from it's holster she offered it to Roslin who, right away, held up her hands in refusal. She tried more forcefully to give it to her, the woman still didn't accept.

"Still there?" Kat called out firing again. "Hello!"

"Listen," Kara whispered. "I was right, Sick Bay is through that hatch about figty feet. There are marines there, it's secure. I give you word, you run your ass there."

"What about you?"

"Gods damn. How long have you been president? You know how this works." she answered. "You are what matters. Do not worry. Just go when I say."

"Ok." agreeing reluctantly.

"Good." Starbuck took a quick stock. One gun certainly had less ammunition by now. But that's why she had two. "Hey Kat!" she called out, rising just enough to see over the box. "Got a question for you."

"Really?" she asked cynically. "Got a trick up your sleeve, Starbuck?"

"Nope." she responded, raising a little more. "Got two guns, no tricks."

"Ok." she mused. "Come out and ask and I promise not to shoot until I answer."

"Knew you coudn't resist something being about you." Starbuck replied and rose to her full height, wary of the cylon's stance and any movement it may take. She took a few careful steps out from the hiding spot and closer to the machine.

"What you got Starbuck?" she asked.

"Just wondering," she began, not really certain what her step two was going to be even as she did so. "was the stim addiction part of your program, or was that just your own stupidity?"

Roslin was listening, every bit of her very frightened body on edge. Just waiting for word from Kara.

Though never a fan of letting someone else jump on the line for her, the captain had it right. She was President, it was her responsibility to the people to survive and lead them. So she didn't look anywhere but towards the door, waiting for her cue. Kara said something about the cylon's programming.

Then something from the masquerading machine that struck her. Something disturbing, she wondered if she correctly heard. However, Laura had no time to analyze anything, too soon after there was a shot, then the Captain's order to 'Go!' followed by another shot.

Don't look back!

-

* * *

-

"Was the stim addiction part of your program, or was that just your own stupidity?"

Kat chuckled at the question and Starbuck felt the weight of the guns in either hand; reminding herself which had the lighter load.

"You know I was having trouble deciding between sticking to the plan or straight up killing you for the hell of it." Kat spoke. "Thanks for making it easy."

Starbuck shrugged and right away lifted her gun to fire. But apparently having tapped into her machine's prowess, Kat easily side stepped the bullet.

"Go!" Kara shouted then moved her aim to follow the Cylon's movements. Human reflexes too...human, before she pulled the trigger, Kat was there, knocking her hand away so the second shot ricocheted harmlessly down the corridor and the gun itself left her grip.

The force of the following punch knocked her off her feet. Her second sidearm clanging, steel on steel, against the ground.

"Deja frakkin vu, huh Captain?" Kat spoke down.

Hell yeah this feltfamiliar. But the surge of the moment, of what was actually happening was keeping her firmly rooted in the present. She sure was tired of getting kicked around by Cylons.

"How do you feel, being tricked...again." Kat asked, standing by while the blonde rose.

Not waiting to get to her full height, Starbuck charged towards the Cylon. Kat once again, manuevered from the attack while simultaneously using the Captain's momentum against her to shove her into the wall. Then grabbing her from behind, holding an arm over her throat.

"I asked you a question. She continued. "How does it feel Starbuck?"

"How do you feel?" it spoke again, keeping the forearm pressed tightly against the Captain's windpipe; stuck in some sort of headlock while it stood at her back. "Because I'll tell you how I feel: I feel incredible."

Starbuck could feel her anger boiling as it rose to compete against any other emotion even as the pressure kept steady on her air supply.

"See, I spent so much time hating the Cylons. Just as much as everyone else in the fleet. I wondered how something so evil could exist. How anything that claimed to have a soul could do the horrible things they've done." the voice spoke with force; a voice she'd known and heard for years.

"Frak-"Starbuck began to force out, but was cut off by an increase of pressure against her throat.

"I wasn't finished." it announced. "Did I sound finished?"

She could hear a throat being cleared; felt the position of the body behind facing the cold gray of the wall with it at her back; in an obvious disadvantage here.

"But.." beginning again. "it's all so clear now. When I first suspected I might be, the possibility made me sick. I wanted to kill myself. One less cylon in the fleet. I wanted to die, just to resurrect and kill myself again. Over and over."

Starbuck didn't care to hear this story. She didn't need to hear about any toaster moment of clarity and acceptance from this one...one she'd known; worked by, walked these halls everyday just as she did.

"Then it wasn't a suspicion anymore; it was fact. I am a cylon." saying it bluntly. "And it was like a switch flipped and I had my answers. Cylons aren't evil or heartless. They're evolution. _I_ am evolution. Better than any generation before us. The things they've done aren't anything but the natural order of things. The greater destroys the weaker. The greater always outlasts. _I _am greater. All those years and months and days I've seen you believe yourself better than your enemy; better than your peers; I bought into it because I didn't know the truth. You're a speck. A piece of dust in a world of giants. It's nothing personal. It all comes down to fact. Cold, hard math."

Her eyes in the corner's of their sockets, she saw one of her discarded weapons not far off. Suddenly, she jumped her feet off the ground, pushing them off the wall before her and forcing them backwards. It fell to the ground, and Starbuck landed on top of it a brief moment before the diving towards the gun.

Grabbing it, she immeditately rolled onto her back as Kat rose and fired.

But the unsatisfying click of an empty barrell was all that followed.

"So close." Kat stated amused. Then the cylon's body jolted as a shot rang out. Then another and another and another. Only a couple of them actually hit the toaster, but they mattered. It fell to the ground in a heap.

Looking behind her, Starbuck saw Roslin with a smoking gun and a shocked expression. Quickly getting up and over to her, she reclaimed her gun, asking while she did so.

"Don't you ever listen?"

"Suppose you may have rubbed off on me." Lara responded, staring ahead where Kat had fallen; she still couldn't believe she'd done that. She'd never fired a gun before. She hated guns.

The older woman carefully followed behind the more experienced shooter who approached the fallen cylon. One bullet in the shoulder, one in the left chest. It was still alive, gasping for air. At least it was until Starbuck fired a single shot into it's head.

"I was never great at math."

"What?" Laura asked of the obscure remark.

"Nothing. Come on."

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	28. Note To Self: Don't Die

**A/N: I know this isn't much of a chapter, but I'm paving ground for a pretty big … I guess the word is confrontation? Maybe...Anyway, when we get to that, that will be a big deal and that's in the next chapter, so here we go!**

**Note To Self: Don't Die – Ryan Adams**

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In the chaos of the sick bay, Cottle flew from place to place in his best effort to help who he could. The staff had helped the odds by assigning the mobile residence of the medical beds jobs which they could perform. Cottle had just finished setting a quick fix pack and suture on a young man on the road to bleeding to death when they'd come in.

The president of the colonies announcing her presence by shouting as soon as she entered:

"We need help over here!"

After grabbing Ishay, he quickly made his way towards the political leader, assuming she was hurt. Horrible to say, but he'd admit he was greatly relieved to see Roslin helping Kara get a young soldier onto a gurney that had just been emptied of a deceased mechanic. A gunshot to the chest, bleeding heavily through her shirts.

He went to work taking a quick look over the woman while Starbuck was in his ear telling him to help her.

"We'll do what we can, damn it!" he announced roughly to get her to back off.

Kara watched Cottle and Ishay begin to discuss this and that in medical terms to each other over the nonmoving Barolay. All she could think about was Sam. How he'd kill her if he could – maybe he could, who knew – for letting Jean die. She thought back to her conversation with the woman.

She'd practically begged Kara to talk with her about him; she missed him and the two women were each other's last remaining living tie to the man. She heard Roslin say something next to her, possibly to her, but didn't pay attention to it.

Turning away from them, her eyes caught a new commotion entering the area and a familiar voice calling for the same things as everyone else.

"I need some help here!"

It was the first time since she'd taken off for the showers and left him to deal with the backlash of their escapades that she saw Lee. Handing off the man he helped walk into the sick bay to an orderly who instantly began looking at a wound on his leg. As soon as Lee looked up from him, his eyes found hers. A look of shock, mixed with relief and something else she was sure swam in her eyes as well.

Before she could form the thought to do so, her legs were already taking her towards him. In return, he instantly took long strides, moving as quickly as she did in her direction. Finally closing all distance between them, they met and right away their bodies collided in a tight embrace. They wrapped their arms around each other, holding tightly, thanking the Gods that the other was alive.

Lee knew normally she wouldn't dare show so much of herself, so much need for another person, in front of anyone. But he assumed she'd been plagued by some of the similar thoughts as him. The relief of seeing her alive was so much so, words didn't exist to describe it. And by her demeanor, he could feel in her embrace that she felt the same way he did.

Finally letting go of each other, he spoke first.

"Good to see you too, Captain." he stated. "You alright?"

"Great." she answered. "Feeling more alive than I have in months, actually."

"I bet."

"Listen," she began her tone turning serious. "Kat, she's one of them. A skinjob."

"Shit." he answered. "Where-"

"Dead." she interrupted. "For now. Lee, we think they're here for Hera."

"Hera?" he asked, not sure why he was surprised. Maybe he'd actually forgotten she was anything other than a child.

Roslin had approached the two once it didn't seem intrusive to do so. Hearing their conversation about Hera being what the cylons were after, she was reminded of the unsettling words Kat had said.

"_I was having trouble deciding between sticking to the plan or straight up killing you..."_

Laura wasn't sure what the words meant, but it was terrifyingly safe to say there was more going on than had been assumed. There was something else the Cylons were up to other than getting their hands on the child; and that something involved Kara Thrace.

"So their after Hera?" Apollo stated. "Let's make sure that doesn't happen then."

"What're we waiting for?"

"Captain Thrace." Laura began to speak; wishing to voice her concern.

"You're safe here." Kara stated. "Stay put, this'll be over soon."

She couldn't ignore the uneasiness growing about the woman going back out into the fray after hearing she may – involuntarily, no doubt – take part in some cylon plan. She opened her mouth to continue but was again silenced by the pilot who began speaking to Major Adama about where he was and how many cylons were still alive as far as he knew.

"...the armory on the way." Lee finished.

"So let's go." Kara nodded, agreeing with him.

"Captain Thrace, I don't think it's a good idea." Laura announced, finally getting it out.

Kara tightly held back her tongue and stepped up, grabbing Roslin's arm and pulling her to walk away from Lee. The brash action caught Roslin off guard. Kara knew it was a horrid show of disrespect for the president but she didn't have time for this.

Once they stopped Kara let go and spoke in a harsh whisper.

"Forgive me Madame President, but what the hell are you doing?!"

"Something the cylon said." Laura started. "About a plan, and you-"

"Stop." she hissed. "Stop. She didn't say anything, you didn't hear anything. It's just mind games."

"If you go, and they somehow -"

"They won't." Kara interrupted, knowing the direction of the statement. "Stay here and forget about it. We're going to go stop them."

Without waiting for a response she turned and approached Lee. The two immediately heading back out.

"Gonna tell me what that was about?" Lee asked as soon as they began heading out.

"No."

Moving alongside him, Kara recalled the very words the Cylon had said that effected the president like that. Yes, Kara heard it as well. But she knew they types of mind games they played. All that crap from Leoben about a destiny.

She'd put no stock in it. And she certainly wouldn't let it stop her from stopping them.

-

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* * *

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She knew what was happening.

She felt it coming long before anyone else had a clue what was happening. Before the first alarm sounded hours ago.

Now, just as she knew what was coming, she knew what she had to do.

It came to her like a bolt of lightning as soon as the ship's lights went out, hers came on. A strike of clarity, she'd never seen anything clearer than what she had to do now.

She tapped into her strength, knowing all along that the room they kept her in would be no trouble to escape. It was a courtesy that she hadn't yet; an offering to show that she wasn't like her sisters.

But that was done now.

Caprica stood at the thick paned glass that closed her in her clear box. Timing an exhale at the same time, the cylon forcefully threw her elbow against it. The shattering sound the room's reply to her action. A decent sized jagged hole now greeted her.

Putting her hands on the edges of the gap, she pulled at the glass, breaking it off in pieces until it was a large enough space for her to get through.

Outside her cell, she spared a quick glance at her hands. She could see the red coming through a few cuts her actions had given her and briefly mused on how close and far at the same time she was from human.

Dismissing thoughts of her humanity, or lack thereof, she refocused on the only thing that mattered.

Caprica left the holding area.

She had a job to do.

A purpose.

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	29. In Fear And Faith

**A/N: I know it's been a terribly long while since I've updated this and left you guys. Hopefully you're all understanding enough to not completely hate me for it. Especially anyone who's on my author's alert and has gotten a little ping every time I've updated another story and not this one. Sorries! You guys are the most awesomest and I hope you're still totally into this. Yesterday, playing the right songs to get my mind into the place I needed, I was able to churn this out and I am pretty dang happy about it. Here we go!**

****In Fear and Faith by Circa Survive**

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"Are there even any left?" she asked at the uneventful trek she and the major had been on so far.

"What, you're bored?" he asked. "Not enough excitement for you, Starbuck?"

"Trust me, I'm plenty excited." she answered, flexing her fingers on the gun she hadn't needed to fire since they'd left the Sick Bay and got a fair share of ammunition from the armory.

"I bet." he replied, taking the first peek around an upcoming corner. "Alright, Day Care looks clear from here. If no one's gotten to Hera yet, she should be there."

"Yeah. _If." _she repeated, less than optimistic.

They made their way to the already open door. Someone had definitely been there already. Nodding to one another, Lee went in first, gun ready.

The sound of crying immediately grabbed his attention and took him towards it. Leading him to a corner behind a large play toy of some kind that he honestly had no idea how they'd found in what was left of their world. The other pilot stood guard, keeping a watchful eye by the door. Apollo found, hiding behind it, the young girl who watched the children sitting on the floor holding the kids as best she could tightly against her.

"Everyone ok?" he asked, moving his gun so the barrel wasn't pointing at the already terrified children. The woman nodded tearily. "Have you seen any?"

Again she nodded and wiped a hand across her wet face before managing to speak.

"Two." she answered. "Both were Lieutenant Agathon."

Lee looked at her a moment, processing what she was telling him.

"So you saw two Sharons?" he asked, then looked at the kids faces. "Where's Hera?"

"With one of them." she answered and started crying again. "The first one, I thought it was her om, but then the other came asking for her and now I don't know. I could've let the cylons kidnap the little girl...Gods, forgive me."

Lee let out a breath and told them to stay right where they were. If a cylon had already been there and done nothing upon seeing them they were most likely safest where they were without trying to make it through the halls. Turning from them, he went quickly to his wingman and told her right away.

"We might have a problem."

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Caprica moved with a stealth speed through the causeways of the old ship.

She was going the right way. She could sense it.

The same feeling that made her purpose so undeniably clear now told her body where to go.

She was close.

She could feel her.

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"So what the hell do we do now?" she asked angrily. "They might have the kid. They might not."

"Ok. They have a plan right?" he asked, thinking aloud. "Everything is a plan; organized and thought out. So there has to be an exit strategy here, for when they get what they wanted."

"Yeah, like blowing the ship and resurrecting somewhere else with smiles on their faces."

"But Hera doesn't resurrect." he stated. "I mean, she wasn't built, she was born."

"Launch deck." she spoke as soon as the idea came to her. "That's got to be it. Get on, get the kid, take a ship and leave. Then they blow us."

"Come on."

They quickened their pace, not knowing whether or not their enemy already had accomplished what they were after. Regardless of that, the two moved to their destination intent on stopping them and ending the never-ending day they were stuck in.

As they got nearer to the deck, Starbuck suddenly got a feeling; something she couldn't place. It started small, almost like an itch of a feeling but with every step they took it grew. They came to a stop, Lee again the point of the two, with their backs against the wall. Apollo moved to lean enough around to see if there was someone or something waiting for them on the other side. Just as he began the familiar action, her arm shot out across his chest and pressed him roughly against the wall once more.

"What are-" he began stopping when she gave him a quick shush.

That feeling, that itch, something it was peaking in intensity. She didn't know what it was or explain it in anyway, but at the moment, stopping Lee felt like the right thing to do.

"Kara-" he started again, they didn't have time for this. Before he could say more her eyes widened just enough to describe that they'd done so.

In a quick motion she moved herself around Lee and raised her gun to fire. Her actions coming to a sudden halt when her eyes and gun got a look at the face that met them.

Starbuck didn't know why she hesitated to pull the trigger right away. But she did, for some reason, long enough for it to speak.

"Wait." it told her, hands raised slightly to show it had no weapon.

The whole damn thing was a weapon.

She felt her insides twist at the simple sound of the voice.

The familiar pull of memory came, threatening with it's usual promise of disconnection from reality into something seemingly inescapable. As soon as she felt it coming, her hands tightened on the handle of her gun. Her body telling her mind that this wasn't where she'd been. That she had power this time. She had the power to end it.

"I've waited long enough." she spoke in a dangerous voice; the tone shaking with the overwhelming rage.

Apollo instantly was at her side, ready to kill the Six for the good of everything and everyone; especially the woman at his side. He raised his gun but did not fire right away, he would gladly kill every model of every cylon without a moment's hesitation, but this was Kara's kill. She deserved whatever amount of closure or relief that would come from it. He would step in the second it was necessary.

"I hope it hurts for a long time." she stated, so much emotion in the words. He couldn't recall ever hearing her say anything she meant more.

"I'm not who you think I am." it began, trying to defend itself and angering Lee at the attempt. "On New Caprica..."

"Shut your mouth." he demanded, not about to let it do it. Refusing to give it a chance to talk it's way into hurting her again. But it continued to speak despite him.

"...I helped. I tried to help you." it explained. "Think-"

"Son of a bitch." Lee declared, taking aim to fire. Before he was able to squeeze the trigger, he felt himself hitting the wall and then the floor. Shoved away by the speaking cylon who, in the same breath, knocked Kara's gun to face the wall. The bullet shot in defense of him hit the metal and missed it's target.

The cylon held firm then, a hand on the human's wrist to keep her from taking aim once more and firing another shot. Holding the weapon and the hands it held tight enough that it was useless, Caprica stepped right up to her, speaking with intensity directly in to the furious green eyes.

"Think." she stated. "Try to remember. When you were there, in that cell..."

"Stop it." she ordered, trying to free herself from the hold.

"...someone came to you..."

"Shut up." she demanded, her desperation hidden in the coat of anger that lived in her words.

She didn't like going back when it was her own mind's doing, the last thing she wanted was some toaster knowingly have the ability to force her to,

"...this person, this cylon," she amended her words. "they talked to you. Brought medicines and treated wounds."

Kara struggled still, shaking her head and refusing. But things it was telling her were sparking something. An inkling familiarity. Did any of that happen? She hadn't recalled anything other than the violence and solitude since she'd been back. The most graphic and painful memories living at the forefront of her mind's eye.

"It was a six; me. Caprica." it elaborated." Kara's effort halted and she felt the hazy memory come force it's way to her attention and she spoke in a breathless voice.

"I thought you liked numbers." echoing the words her own voice spoke in the memory after hearing the machine's name.

Caprica's grip loosened as it became apparent the human knew who she was now. As soon as the tight hold eased off, Kara suddenly felt herself being pulled back by Lee who'd finally cleared the fog from his encounter with the floor. He got hold of her as soon as he could get to his feet and got her away from whatever game the cylon was trying to play.

"Kara?" he said her name when he'd put space between the two. She didn't respond to him, her eyes remaining watching the other blonde. "What the frak?"

The woman held her gun at her side, not even poising it for firing at the toaster. Apollo grabbed it from her and then shoved the cylon against the wall. It hit the steel with a bang and he pointed the gun in her face and screamed at her.

"What did you do?" he shouted, then louder. "What did you do to her?"

Lee seethed anger, his desperation to help Kara driving his actions. When he yelled the second time, the captain behind him snapped out of her reverie. She suddenly directed her words to where they were, to the cylon.

"What happened just now?" she asked. "What was that over there, before we saw each other?"

Lee let go and backed away; keeping the borrowed gun trained on her.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Caprica asked, confusing Lee.

"What's she talking about?" he asked the pilot.

"We don't have a lot of time." Caprica spoke, interrupting whatever answer, if any, Kara could have given. "If we want to stop them we have to move fast."

"Them?" Lee repeated cynically. "You mean your little friends?"

"Stop them from what?" Kara asked, ignoring Lee's remark. "What are they trying to do? What's their plan?"

"I can't say."

"You mean you won't."

"Listen to me." Caprica pleaded of the two. "You have every reason to be suspicious, but consider the fact that I've already turned against them. I've become an enemy of my own people. They would like nothing more than to have me killed and boxed. So if you believe nothing else believe that them being here is just as dangerous for me as it is for you."

Lee cocked a grin to the side, obviously not believing a word of it and about to let her know it but was suddenly stopped by words he never thought he'd hear from his friend.

"We have to trust her." she said to him, though her eyes remained on the machine.

"What?" he asked, not sure he'd actually heard right. She couldn't possibly have meant that.

Of all people, she'd been so adamantly outspoken about the fact that one was the same as another was the same as another and there was no distinguishing amongst them. And that was before her capture. It had only become more cemented since then, or at least it was.

"Kara, what are you talking about? After everything you've been through-"

Her head snapped towards him and she interrupted with a tight jaw.

"Don't lecture me on what _I've_ been through." after sparing a beat to make sure he wasn't going to carry that form of argument any further, she turned back toward Caprica. "This better be for real."

Caprica nodded and instructed immediately. "This way."

Lee grabbed her elbow to keep her back a step. "Are you planning on telling me what the hell's going on?"

"As soon as I know." she replied, pulling away and following.

Kara couldn't explain it and Starbuck couldn't believe it, but something was telling her to trust Caprica. Maybe it was for no reason other than the possibility of answers. Whatever it was that had happened back there. That, almost clairvoyant moment in the causeway that told her the cylon was there.

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It wasn't far from where they'd met that they found the situation in front of them. Like something out of a bad movie, they stood far enough away so as not to be seen and took a look at the scene.

Two Sharons.

One holding the child, one pointing a gun at her.

Trying to figure out which was which from where they were was really near impossible. Kara suggested shooting them both, not to kill just to incapacitate, and then approach. But the risk to the baby was too great for the major's liking. Especially if there were others around. They couldn't see the entire space, really just those two.

Finally Caprica maneuvered herself to have a look and determined right away that it was the armed eight that was, for lack of a better word, the imposter. The eight holding the baby was, in fact, it's mother. Once again they'd have to just trust the six's word on the information. Cylons could tell each other apart a million times better than people. If she was lying to them to manipulate the outcome, they basically had no way to know.

Trust.

The trio moved carefully forward and the words being passed between them became audible.

"Don't make me kill you in front of your kid." one said to the other, proving Caprica Six right. "I mean, I'll do it. I just don't want to deal with the crying."

"That's the only way you get her." the other Sharon, the one that had been living among them since she and Helo came back with Starbuck from Caprica.

"We haven't the time for negotiations and small talk." another voice said.

Lee craned his neck to see, but Kara didn't need to. Her heart sped up at the voice. The accent and enunciation were painfully recognizable as the tell-tale traits of Sam's killer.

Suddenly forgetting that they were approaching cautiously hoping to use the advantage of surprise, her emotions seized total control. Breaking from the other two and not giving a thought to anything else, she stepped out and shouted.

"D'Anna!" she screamed her name, the single word dripping with everything that was running through her, a breath before she raised her gun and opened fire.

"Damn it!" Lee hissed, lifting his own gun and running to Kara, pushing her to cover while bullets began to fly back their way.

"What the hell are you doing!" Apollo shouted in her ear when he came down on top of her.

"Get the frak off!" she threw back getting out from under him and readying the gun again.

Caprica ducked back down, avoiding a shot by inches. It was when she was hidden that she saw him sitting at her side, as always looking as relaxed as ever.

"Having fun yet?" he asked.

"Gaius." she said his name and he grinned in return.

"Hello, darling."

"Where have you been?" she asked having not seen him all day until now.

"Enjoying the show of course." he teased, taking a deep inhale of his cigarette. "You were so adorable, marching around, 'I have a mission.' and all."

While listening to him speak, a shot bounced off the steel floor too close for her liking and she jumped. He was unflinching as he continued.

"What's most amusing is that you sincerely think you can have any say in coming events." she gave him a hard look and he returned it with a serious one of his own. "You know what happens next."

She shook her head and spoke forcefully.

"It doesn't have to." she protested. "It can be stopped...changed."

"But why bother?" he asked, looking past her. "Especially when all parts are being played so beautifully."

Caprica followed his eye sight, looking, as he had, at the two pilots across the corridor. She shook her head again. It could be stopped; she could prevent it.

Kara scrambled to stand again, to fire at the toaster again. She heard Caprica declare that she needed a gun and she didn't think twice about throwing her second over in her direction.

"We have to get Hera." Lee stated loud enough to be heard over the guns. The woman either didn't hear or truly didn't care about his attempt to get her to focus. She gave no response.

They needed a plan, shoot first was obviously not working. He couldn't even see the child; he could only assume she and her mother had smartly taken cover when the first bullets started flying.

"Captain!" that voiced called out over the noise of the shots.

She fought to control her breathing as the mere sound from the machine sent everything in her into a flurry of indistinguishable emotions. Without waiting to hear whatever it was quip or taunt it wanted to continue with, Starbuck screamed again while shooting rapid shots at the source.

Lee could see the effect the three was having on her. The moment they'd realized she was there, Starbuck seemed to just lose it. Inciting the shootout with a child caught in the middle, sabotaging their strategy and the clear display that her emotions were all over the place.

"Not your best." it spoke again after the shots and he saw her taking quick erratic breaths when it did. "Too bad for hubby my aim's a bit better than that."

Lee wanted to tell her to shut her frakking mouth; wanted to shut it for her. But he said nothing, he couldn't. He was stuck watching Kara fall apart. At the last words of the cylon, the blonde put her hands to the side of her head and he could almost swear there was a sob there. Just one second before she clamped her mouth shut, muffling another scream while bending at the waist.

When she straightened again, she tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling. Lee was terrified. He hadn't seen her have a real breakdown since she tried punching her way through steel in the brig.

But he had connected the dots. Once his brain kicked back in, the cylons words making it fairly obvious.

Sam.

He saw the six with them, firing in their direction and he suddenly remembered he, too, had a gun.

Something bounced their direction and it took him only a second to realize what it was. It went off with a loud pop and smoke instantly began enveloping all sight in front of them. Losing visual on their enemy and erupting in coughs as the smoke invaded their unsuspecting lungs.

Turning away to face the clearer air behind where the battle took place, Kara was greeted through the wisps of thinner smoke streams with a figure behind her.

D'Anna.

She must've run through the smoke and now stood right in front of her. Kara raised her gun and fired. For the second time she had the enemy point blank and no shots.

Her eyes widened and she pulled the trigger again. Still nothing. Her hands ran over her body, frantically searching for a reload. She found her last one, quickly loading it into her weapon and taking aim.

The cylon smirked at her then turned and ran the way they'd come, disappearing just as the bullet tore through the space she had previously occupied. Not hesitating a moment, the pilot was on her feet, charging after as fast as she could.

She wouldn't fail Sam again.

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"Going to change it are you?"

Caprica heard what she only could, the man appearing crystal clear despite the clouded environment around her.

"Your little pet just took the bait."

Caprica looked aside then, down the causeway in time to see Kara Thrace disappear around the corner.

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**a/n: just a fun fact I tried for three straight days to sit and type this up but interruptions were all after me. Finally finished it. **

**Hope you're still here. :)**

**As always reviews are appreciated, but if not, I love you for stopping by anyway.**


	30. All These Things I Hate

**A/N: Holy crap! Can you believe it? I'm back with an update. I can't express the amount of apology I have for taking so long. I've actually **_**just**_** gotten use of internet back again after moving. I've been using my brother as a proxy of sorts, giving him my log on info to send messages and giving him some written material to type and post to my OTH stories. But this ...this special baby of mine, I've been working on this for a while and when I was finally satisfied knew **_**I**_** and no other had to be the one to give it to you. **

**A large thanks goes to cybercat08. Taking your advice. ;) I'd meant to get to putting this up as soon as I got off work but...life...**

****All These Things I Hate (Revolve Around Me) by Bullet For My Valentine**

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"You know I never really spend time thinking about it...death; dying." she mused aloud as she had a habit of doing around him. The bottle also doing it's share to encourage her.

"It's gotta enter your mind sometimes." he replied, using his unique thought process to disagree with her. "The life you live, it's impossible not to. Death is everywhere."

He retaliated with the logic that often made her want to smack him. She tipped back the bottle, letting the familiar burn flow past her lips and down her throat.

"You're telling me you never think about it? _Never._" he asked, when she brought the bottle back down.

"Mm." she sounded, swalloing the liquid in her mouth and wiping her lips with the back of her hand, letting out a small cough.

"That's not true." she admitted, pointing to him with one finger, the others still coiled around the glass neck.

He nodded as if he'd made a point and she'd proven it right for him, taking the bottle for his own drink like a reward he'd earned. She leaned towards him, the two of them still sitting against the wall in the dark, and told him in a liquour thick voice.

"Everyday I wake up, my day starts the same," she took the bottle back from him. "I think to myself: I'm gonna die today. And then I carry on."

She sat back, leaning against the steel and watching him. He said nothing now and she took another drink. Then, looking down at the empty bottle in her hand, she sighed and simply said:

"Yeah."

* * *

* * *

She felt herself weating as she forced her legs to push her as fast as she could down the corridor. Whether the actual reason for the sweat was the running was up for debate. Her mind went a thousand miles a moment, all in directions of Sam and his murderer.

It seemed the cylon was always just barely out of sight as Kara flew after it. Her gun, fully louaded, set in her hand as if it were an extension of her. She couldn't, _wouldn't_, let D'Anna get away.

She was going to send every bullet she had tearing into some part of the cylon's body. She was going to watch it bleed to death like she'd watched Sam. Forced to watch her husband's life seep out of him feet from her.

A small window that must have been a gift from the Gods came and Kara was able to get full view of her and fired a shot before she could disappear again. It hit in the shoulder and D'Anna lurched forward, nearly losing her footing and certainly slowing down as she turned the corner. Kara followed the blood now, halting when it brought her to the door.

All too familiar with what was behind it, she refused to let it stop her from getting what was rightfully hers. D'Anna was beyond the door. Justice. Vengeance. Maybe even the ever elusive closure she only heard of without ever having for herself.

Starbuck was about to push through, guns blazing, when something made her pause. A feeling..._that_ feeling again.

Vaguely comparable to the way the light breeze of a coming storm would make her hairs stand on end. The very feeling she'd had upon coming across Caprica Six not long ago, but a more intense version of it. A stronger wind.

Really having no idea where it came from or why she'd somehow gained it, she had a pretty good idea at the moment what getting that feeling meant...what it was telling her from her previous experience. It frightened her, knowing what it cuold possibly be evidence of. But for the time being, she focused on her objective. Closing her eyes and taking a breath, she gripped her gun tighter and used a free hand to open the door.

As soon as she entered, she immediately turned to her left and fired. A splatter of blood hit the wall and Leoben fell to the steel floor with a hole in his chest. He leaned his head on the wall and smiled at her, speaking through weezing breaths.

"It's happening." he forced out, a disturbing chuckle following. He turned toward the far wall and used his voice again. "Do you...see?"

Another short laugh turned to a cough and he spoke no more; eyes going wide and empty with death. Turning the weapon where his gaze had been, she aimed it at D'Anna. Her finger itched to pull the trigger without pause, but she had to ask first.

"What do you see?" she asked, the dark tone reserved just for the machine she spoke to.

The cylon smirked at her and spoke sarcastically. "Many things."

Without missing a beat, Starbuck pulled the trigger again, sending a bullet into D'Anna's uninjured shoulder. The impact and shock of the action made her cry out in pain and spun her to the floor. Starbuck approached where the cylon painfully moved itself to a seated position and tentatively attempted to favor the newest wound despite the other. Pressing a palm tenderly over the spot where the fresh blood poured, D'Anna found herself looking at the green legged pants of the captain.

Starbuck felt, now, a surprising calm. No longer were the meshed voices of so many dark memories screaming at her at once. She didn't feel the hurried need for immediate action. A dark part of her savoring each ragged breath of pain that came from the seated figure. She closed her eyes, letting that part, the primal creature within her, take it in. Almost drug like, it seemed for the blood thirsty beast growling in her veins.

Squatting in front of D'Anna, she spoke in an eerily calm voice.

"I'm going to ask again." she informed before doing so. "What do you see?"

D'Anna took a few panted braeths and gave the woman a grin.

"Feels good doesn't it?" she asked in her accented voice. Looking into the eyes growing continuously darker with each word the Cylon spoke. "Pulling the trigger, inflicting pain; torture. You're enjoying it. You feel powerful...in control."

"You don't know torture. This isn't torture." she replied. "You are right about one thing, though."

Starbuck grabbed the shoulder not being held and squeezed; pressing on the wound with her thumb as hard as she could. The cylon cried out in pain and she let go.

"It does feel good." she finished. "Everytime I blow one of you to hell, every bullet that goes through you and shuts you down...I toast to them."

"Quite barbaric, Captain." she retorted, breathing heavily. "And you wonder where we learned it; call us monsters."

"We are nothing alike." she stated with clenched teeth. "You killed millions and millions of people. Exterminated an entire race. I am nothing like you."

D'Anna cocked her head slightly.

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way...you need me."

Starbuck scoffed at the words and shook her head.

"Think about it." The three continued. "You define yourself by this persona that really only has a place in war. You thrive on battle; only really alive when you're killing. How lond did your peaceful life keep you satisfied on New Caprica? A month...maybe two, before you started feeling it...that bloodlust. The need for a fight."

She shook her head with a sneer but couldn't keep from listening as D'Anna continued.

"You _need_ us. Violence and rage are in your blood. It beats in your heart. You need an enemy to direct it at; to unleash all your hate. If you don't have any, you make them. Because without any, you're forced to see that the truest, most deserving target for your destruction and hate is the face you see above the sink each morning."

"You don't know what you're talking about." she told her dangerously, the statements she'd made tensing her entire being. She rose to her full height, ready to put the final bullet into the three.

"Who are you without us to fight?" she asked continuing. "Without us to hate? Tell me, who is Kara Thrace?"

Starbuck glared down at her, attributing the same prickling feeling on the back of her neck to the presence of the speaking cylon in front of her. When she didn't answer the question, D'Anna's eyes to Leoben's body.

"He knows."

"And we do too." a new voice and suddenly she knew she should've paid attention to the strange new alarm she'd been experiencing. Before she could turn around to point her gun, she was already hitting the wall. In the room now, the place she'd lived her days and nights until Caprica came on board, a Six joined them.

The wind flew from her lungs when her back hit the wall and she immeditaely set her eyes on the fallen gun. D'Anna painfully rose to stand with her sister, they exchanged a quick word.

"He was right." Six stated.

"He was." Three agreed. "I saw myself."

Their words peaked another round of interest within her but decided instead to find a way to get to her weapon which lay what seemed to be dead center between them. The only option that came was to lunge for it and hope for the best.

They turned to her as she prepared to do just that and right away it ruined her hopes; surprise gone from her arsenal. So she rose to her feet and returned their gaze with an icy one of her own.

Unamused, Six spoke.

"Time to go, Captain." she told her.

Starbuck could've laughed. She almost did, maybe she really was crazy.

"Sure." she sarcastically agreed. "You'll have to give me a second to pack, though."

"Always seomthing to say." Six mused, then looked down at the gun. "Here."

She stepped forward and kicked it towards her. The pilot made no move to pick it up, keeping her eyes transfixed on them.

"You've got about enough time to pull the trigger once before we could get to you...maybe." she noted glancing towards D'Anna. "So, who gets your vengeance. Do you kill in the name of a loved one or for the scars you wear? Where are your cuts deepest? Either way, it'll be the last action you take on Galactica."

"I'm not going anywhere." she stated.

"If by chance you were to somehow kill us both, you know it wouldn't make a difference." D'Anna informed her. "It wouldn't be the end. We'd only return."

Starbuck took in the words. Confirming the fact that they truly weren't done with her...possibly never would be. Like getting shot all over again, she felt the hideous truth that, for some reason, they weren't going to stop. There had to be a way to stop them, she refused to believe that she was powerless against them. There had to be a way to stop them...for good.

And then...she picked up the gun and looked at it; carefully as the idea came.

"Yeah, you'll be back; Resurrect." she agreed, with a nod. "But when you're memories are downloaded, in your files and data...you'll remember this."

The words of promise barely out of her mouth a second before she shocked the cylons by showing them what she meant: turning the barrel of the gun towards her own temple. This got rid of th arroagance the machines displayed. The careless joke of death wasn't so funy when it was as it was meant to be. Final.

Seeing the look come over the cylon's face, Kara nodded her head and steadied her voice even as she felt the stinging of tears in the corners of her eyes.

"You'll remember this, and you'll tell your friends Kara Thrace isn't a concern anymore." she stated, half of her refusing to let the water in her eyes develop any further, the other half simply not caring anymore. If this was how it had to be, it was how it had to be. "You tell them she took control of her destiny."

Six looked at D'Anna then back to Kara.

"You won't do it." she affirmed, debating on calling her bluff. "Suicide is a sin, even to your gods."

She stood once again, feeling an air of confidence in the situation. She knew this woman...more than most, less than some. But one of the things she did know was she was religious. Maybe not openly, but she prayed to her Gods. Held them high and coveted their teachings and lessons.

"It's unforgivable."

There was a silent moment during which the officer looked very briefly to the floor. The gun never leaving it's target. But in the moment, Six felt she'd struck something. However, quickly, Kara raised her head and stared at Six with eyes that were...she couldn't describe exactly or even vaguely what looked at her in those eyes. Wet with unshed tears, yet fearless. Fiercely angry, yet she smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"I've done plenty of unforgivable things." she spoke with a heavy sincerity, even as she smirked. Then the smile was gone with her next words. "If I have to piss them off once more to stop whatever plan you have...I'm good with that. But I'm thinking...I'm thinking they just may find a loophole in this one for me."

D'Anna eyed her carefully as she spoke. She knew the plan they were to carry out. They'd been sent with the boarding team to bring the human back. One that they'd spent so much time and creativity with on New Caprica. The one they needed. The one with the destiny.

A destiny that had to be broken away from the humans to come to the most advantageous for the cylon race. Her fate was something to marvelously help the cylon fleet or, if she stayed and survived, it would do the same for the fumans.

The humans were undeserving. So very undeserving. They didn't see. But her brother saw and spoke and led them all to the knowledge that was now unanimously known throughout by all cylons.

Six was scared now. Terrified by the fact that even though Kara's eyes were moist, even though her lips trembled ever so slightly as her words came...her hand was steady.

Not even the smallest quiver from the hand holding the weapon against herself. This gave a crystal picture. Six had no doubt tha tshe would pull the trigger and end her own life. Right there at that moment.

Then they would return to the fleet - whether by choice or resurrection - with the news of failure. The grandest of failures.

She knew her physical capabilities as a cylon. As a part biological creation, it was the other part she'd need in this situation; to stop what could very possibly happen there. So, without warning, Six moved. Jetting forward with every intention to twist the armed hand away, wrench the weapon from her grasp and knock her to the ground. She moved with grand spped, and was maybe a foot away when the room thundered with the sound of the shot.

The sound stopped her in her tracks. There was blood and Six felt all the breath leave her body.

This wasn't the way.

Starbuck didn't flinch.

Even as the cylon charged towards her, or when it's blood splattered onto her; exploding from the pace in it's chest where the bullet tore through. The cylon looked down at her newfound wound a moment, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Her mouth opened as she gazed down and a confused "I..." managed out before the shock wore off her body and it hit the floor with the unmistakeable thud of dead weight.

The body's fall revealed Caprica in the doorway, gun still outstretch, a whisp of smoke at the mouth of the barrel. Kara looked from her to the dead cylon inches from her feet, only registering she still had the gun against her head with D'Anna spoke angrily to Caprica.

"Traitor." the three growled at her sister.

Caprica lifted her gun but a shot hit her fellow cylon before she had the chance to be the one to do it. D'Anna fell and Kara approached. Looking down at the barely alive machine, her mind conjured Sam in several long ago images. His laugh, him gasping for his final breath; his bare chest beneath her head, his blood pouring from the bullet wound; his smile, his empty eyes...

She pulled the trigger again and again. Shot after shot after shot piercing mercilessly through the false flesh and spilling more and more synthetic blood until no more bullets came out. The gun clicked twice on empty shots before she accepted that she had no more bullets. Breathing heavily, she looked at the dead monster and felt thesmallest bit better at the sight even though she knew it would wake up again fresh and new. But it would remember this deat, and each one Kara delivered afterwards.

The main lights suddenly came to life, signalling she assumed, that it was over. They regained their ships control once again.

Caprica looked at the captain whose back was to her, still looking down at the lifeless body. She was thankful to havfe made it before it had come to pass that she was in their custody again. However, the sight that had greeted her arrival was a deeply shocking one.

Starbuck had appeared more than willing to take her own life to stop them. Commendable, yet thoroughly frightening.

Caprica approached her, putting a hand on her tense shoulder.

"Ka-" before she could even begin the second syllable, the officer spun around and shoved her hard into the wall, holding her there. She instantly began screaming in her face.

"What the frak do you want from me?" she shouted, a storm ragin gin her deep eyes with such intensity Caprica had never seen.

When the cylon didn't answer right away - too shocked to do so - Starbuck demanded again, pulling the machine back enough to hit her into the wall again more forcefully.

"What do you want?" she hollered anger and desperation consuming everything in her. She knew Kara meant her kind in general and not specifically Caprica herself. "Haven't you done enough? Haven't you _taken _enough/!"

She pressed her gun roughly against Six's forehead. Too blinded with rage to remember it was empty, she pushed hard enough to leave a bruise.

She seethed like a rabid cornered animal. She was sick of it, had been sick of it for too long. Kara...Starbuck...whoever she was anymore, whoever they were after, couldn't take anymore.

Caprica grimaced but refrained from deving into her inhuman strengths to her away.

"There's..." she began, ignoring the throbbing in her head. "...a prophecy."

Kara's anger swelled. They cylons and their prophecies and predictions and God and tellings and destinies and on and on and on and on.

"The hybrid-"

Kara cut off her words, pulling the trigger. The gun clicked it's empty round and the cylon flinched regardless of already knowing it was no longer loaded. If at all possible, the human's eyes grew darker.

"No more prophecy." she said directly. "No more tellings. No more _frakkin_ destiny!"

She then pushed off her fiercely though Caprica had no where to be be moved to and turned to leave. Throwing the empty weapon aside with a loud bang against the steel, she stormed out of the room.

Lee appeared in the hall and immediately found and approached her. Happy to, once again, see she'd made it through.

He came right to her and as he had before, put his arms around her in a grateful hug. This time, however, she didn't return his greeting or let him fully indulge in it. Instead she pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him off and away from her.

"Kara what-"

She didn't stay for his question, already on her rage fueled march away from him. She swung her arm with a loud shout to knock over a stack of crates at the corner.

They crashed to the floor and she was gone.

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	31. One Man Drinking Games

**A/N: You know what I really hate? Thinking I'll be doing something, then telling people I'll be doing it...then not doing it. Originally this chapter was part of the last one...as in they were together in one bigness of a chapter, but I was given the suggestion to cut it in half so it would seem like a bigger gift to the loyal readers who are still here with me, however few of you there are. :) I took this advice and admittedly it would have been more effective, I think, if I hadn't put yet another chunk of time between postings...apologies. Here we go!**

****One Man Drinking Games by Mayday Parade**

* * *

He found her where he thought he would...and more specifically, exactly _how_ he thought he would.

In the observation room, bottle in hand.

The only light in it was from the corridor when he opened the hatch; it disappearing once he closed it. He looked around the dark room where civilians would sit in awe to watch the pilots put on their maneuvers for show. That didn't happen anymore since fuel became an issue.

But he knew her.

Knew when she needed to think there was the gym, but when she needed peace, there was only the sky. He took a guess that, based on the day, she'd be looking for whatever ounce of peace she could find.

Ignoring the empty chairs at her disposal, she sat on the floor directly beside the glass. Head leaning against the cool surface, glazed gaze out at the black abyss.

"This floor taken?" he asked, she jumped a bit at his voice. Obviously very lost in her mind or maybe just that very drunk that she hadn't heard him enter.

"Help yourself." the two word response told him she'd already consumed the lion's share of the bottle.

He lowered himself to the floor beside her, leaning on the wall and letting out a breath.

"Long day, huh?" he asked his friend.

"One for the books." she commented, moving her arm to him, offering him her drink. He accepted, the liquid burning a path through his throat.

"Gonna be a whole lot of debriefing." he mused looking at the bottle in his hand.

"Yeah." she answered without commitment to the conversation, eyes still far out in space.

He nodded, officially ready to be done with small talk. After running into Lee, he'd heard a brief synopsis of all that had gone down for them while he'd been in his own muck of mess.

"Least we came out the other end, right?" he spoke, looking out at the dark sky beside her and silently thanking the Gods they'd all made it through another level of hell.

"Sure we did." taking the bottle again. She took a long helping and continued. "Hot Dog is dead, Kat's a Cylon and Barolay..."

She found herself having difficulty thinking about her, let alone talking. She shook her head intent on finishing and took another tip of the bottle.

"But, hey, _we_ made it through."

"You know none of that's your fault." he half asked, half stated.

All the years he'd known her, she'd always been horribly self depricating. And he always hated it. Yeah, she had a tendency of messing up, of breaking rules and havingjust abou tthe worst (and simultaneously the best) luck of anyone he knew; but he'd never known of her to do anything that deserved a tenth of the mental lashing she gave herself. What really sucked was the fact that people who didn't know her assumed she couldn't care less.

"Hey. None of that was your fault." he tried again to convince her. "No one knew about Kat. There's no way you could have known."

Starbuck bit her tongue; keeping her current thought from being verbalized: That if whatever was going on with her; the strange sensation like her own personal DRADIS for nearby skinjobs, had kicked in earlier, she _would_ have known. She could have stopped it before it it didn't, so she didn't.

Kara didn't want to share her newfound "talent" or whatever someone would call it for a simple reason. She was afraid. Afraid of what it was; what it might mean.

So instead, she recalled the words Lee had spoke so adamently in her dream.

"We should have seen."

Helo put his large hand on her shoulder and patted in an attempt to comfort her.

"Let's just be glad we're both alive, alright?" he suggested.

"You think you wouldn't?" she asked, running her thumb around the lip of the bottle.

"Did I think I would die?" he asked to clarify her question, then answered. "I hoped I wouldn't. You know, I pray before every fight. Pray if I go it's quick; that my family will be ok."

"You think about a lot?"

He nodded. " I wonder how or when it'll happen. If Sharon and Hera will be alright without me."

"You know I never really spend time thinking about it...death; dying." she mused aloud as she had a habit of doing around him. The bottle also doing it's share to encourage her.

"It's gotta enter your mind sometimes." he replied, using his unique thought process to disagree with her. "The life you live, it's impossible not to. Death is everywhere."

He retaliated with the logic that often made her want to smack him. She tipped back the bottle, letting the familiar burn flow past her lips and down her throat.

"You're telling me you never think about it? _Never._" he asked, when she brought the bottle back down.

"Mm." she sounded, swalloing the liquid in her mouth and wiping her lips with the back of her hand, letting out a small cough.

"That's not true." she admitted, pointing to him with one finger, the others still coiled around the glass neck.

He nodded as if he'd made a point and she'd proven it right for him, taking the bottle for his own drink like a reward he'd earned. She leaned towards him, the two of them still sitting against the wall in the dark, and told him in a liquour thick voice.

"Everyday I wake up, my day starts the same," she took the bottle back from him. "I think to myself: I'm gonna die today. And then I carry on."

She sat back, leaning against the steel and watching him. He said nothing now and she took another drink. Then, looking down at the empty bottle in her hand, she sighed and simply said:

"Yeah."

Helo didn't respond; he found that he couldn't. He knew that life was finite; knew that a lot of academy training focused on drilling that fact into their skulls. But he didn't know anyone who went so far with it as to assume their life was already over. It was dangerous and only made it more of a possibility.

"Cylons...they aren't afraid of death." she spoke her thoughts, focusing her energy on making her words understandable. "I've killed them and killed them and killed them and killed them...I've looked in their eyes and saw no fear of it." she pressed her finger against her temple and tapped it a few times as her thoughts moved. "But I've seen them afraid."

She paused, thinking on the image of fear swirling in the eyes.

"Twice." she went on, her old friend listening intently, like he always did when she spoke. She felt her hand absently go to her neck, fingers grazing where she knew her only self-inflicted scar was.

"Did I ever tell you about New Caprica? About getting out?" she asked.

He was surprised a bit by the sudden subject change and assumed the alcohol swimming in her body was making her mind move sporadically and without direction.

"No." he answered. "You never told me."

She never told him anything about it. Never went into details with anyone. Her time was as much a mystery as the scars that lined her body.

"I'd been there...Gods know how long." she began, a distance i nher eyes hidden by the dark surroundings. She did her best to keep her mind focused. Rubbing on her forehead as if it would help, she continued.

"There was a Six. There were lots of Sixes, what am I saying?"

Her words, a verbal exhibit to her fluid thoughts, Helo began to believe the bottle they now shared may not have been her first.

"But one of them, I saw fear in it's eyes, right before I killed it."

Helo let his voice out into the dark.

"How'd you manage that?" he asked wtih a grin in the dark. If anyone could find a way to do it, no surprise that it would be her.

"I killed myself first." she answered wtih a haunting absense in her voice.

She took a controlling breath, talking abou tit...purposefully returning, she could feel the memories pull her. The alcohol makin git difficult to keep focused; keep present. Without realizing it, her arm went out in the dark, her fingers clutching the fabric of his pant leg beside her on the floor. Karl looked down at his leg, at her hand so tightly holding on to him; an anchor.

Her head tipped back and her eyes closed, he felt her squeeze a bit harder as her muscles tensed. He looked at her concerned, as he heard her release another slow breath. Though he still vividly remembered what happened last time he interfered, he knew he had to try again. Carefully he put his own hand over hers and spoke.

"Kara?" her name escaped him softly and he felt her hand loosen it's hold on the material, the muscles slowly relaxing. "Kara can you hear me?"

She leveled her head and opened her eyes, the shadowed world tilting with her as the liquid sloshed in her veins.

"The second time was today." she returned to her previous tale. "When I put my own gun," she tapped two fingers to her temple. "right here."

He stared at her, wide eyes in their dark place. "What?"

Was she really suicidal? He never would've pegged it on her, ever. He just had to assume it had been part of some crazy plan of hers. She didn't say anything more for a few heavy seconds.

"Kara-" she cut him off by doing something completely unexpected. Kara started laughing. Not a true laugh. A laugh that was born of a mix of alcohol and the cynicism. It was either laugh or cry, so she laughed a heavy drunken laugh, falling slightly so she leaned on his arm and shoulder.

"The cylons are afraid of me dying." she said through the laughter; his heart lurched with the pain radiating from. Her head against him, he felt her laughter slow down and she reached blindly behind her until he heard the unmistakeable sound of glass on the steel. She pulled it in front of her, and opened it with her quivering hands.

She brought it up to her lips, but Helo's hand stopped her. His palm catching the bottom of the bottle when she tried to tip it up. She didn't fight him when he put pressure on the object, allowing him to guide her hand down adn then took the bottle away from her. Setting it aside, out of her reach.

After a second, she spok ein almost a whisper.

"What am I gonna do?"

Karl heard her quiet words; soft, yet screaming for an answer. over the course of their friendship, he'd been witness to a share of vulnerable moments in the life of Kara Thrace. He remembered finding her completely sloshed in the mess afterhours the night Zac died. He saw the way her father's music easerd her features and put a glint of true peace in her eyes. How finding out Sharon was a cylon ripped at her heart and the way leaving Anders being on Caprica had haunted her each day afterwards.

But this was something new. An experience of vulnerability in her he'd never been witness to. She was lost.

In her words, he could hear every bit of hopeless desperation existed in life. He'd admit the revelation frightened him as well.

He put an arm around her, letting her lean on him. He knew she wouldn't allow the vulnerability to last long, but he would do his best to comfort her as long as she allowed it.

It was a few minutes until he heard her deeply intake a breath and he knew what it meant. She sat up straight, and just like that it was over.

"You ok?" he asked her when she moved away from him.

"I'm peachy." she answered. He could imagine, in the dark, the sarcastic smile on her face as she replied.

She moved to get up, stumbling even before she stood. instinctively he reached a hand to steady her.

"Easy.' he stated as she drunkenly managed to pull herself to her feet.

"I got it." she mumbled. "I got it."

Helo stood and almost spread a smile at the familiarity of it. How many late nights had he watched Kara's all too drunk attempts to perform the simple task of walking; ultimately stepping up to help her out.

When he did, her acceptance depended on which drunk Kara he was dealing with. The angry, self loathing one that cursed and swung at him when he tried to help, or the lou dlaughing one that found the situation hilarious.

This Kara let him sling her arm over his shoulder. Helo leaning tocompensate for their difference in height. Her foot slipped and she sank an inch before Helo used his leverage to stop the descent. Pulling her to stand again he heard it.

She laughed again. This time different. Alcohol induced, still, but not hollow. Exaggerated and loud, but it didn't mean he didn't soar at the sound. He was almost sure he'd never hear it again. Not the bitter one that came during their talk; a real laugh.

"Whoops." she said and he smiled, adjusting his hold.

"Yeah, whoops." he replied. "Let's go sleep this off, huh?"

"Nope." she disagreed, removing her arm from him and almost falling again. "I got someone to visit."

Her vague response confused him and he stepped close enough to grab her again before he could crash to the steel.

"Alright." he reluctantly agreed. "Tell me where you gotta be and I'll make sure you get there."

She laughed again and slapped her palm to his cheek.

"Always so worried." she mused.

"Someone has to be." he acknowledged with a grin.

She let out another amused laugh at his response.

"I'm a big girl, Sammy." she told him. "Nothing's gonna happen to..."

The tall man felt her body tense as realization swept over her. He'd heard it and his heart froze with hope that maybe she wouldn't notice. But she had, and it seemed to have an instantaneous sobering effect. She stepped back from him, away from his contact and looked carefully, almost suspiciously. Trying to clear the haze in her drunk brain.

"Karl?" she said his name like question and wrenched her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to force the focus.

"Yes." all he could say.

She shook her head side to side and opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry." and he thought he heard her sniffle a tear. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's ok." he tried to assure her.

"No." she shook her head again. "It's not. So many things..." she put her hand on either side of her head. "I have to go."

"Kara-" he stepped forward, but hse held up a hand to halt him and took her own step back.

"I gotta go." she repeated in a whisper.

Moments later Helo stood in the stream of light that poured in from the open door.

* * *

Sharon was lying beside her daughter in the bed she and her husband shared. The whole time she'd been beside the sleeping child, she'd run her finger over her cheek, arm, stomach, leg...everything.

Just to assure she was real.

After losing her then coming close to losing her once again, she was afraid to even blink for fear Hera would no longer be there.

The door opened slowly and she turned her face to see Karl walk in. A somber expression on his face as he approached his family.

With the utmost gentility in his large hands, he carefully picked up his sleeping child and set her in her crib. Sharon rose on her elbow in confusion.

"What's wrong?" she asked as he sat on the bed where Hera had been. "Have you been drinking?"

The smell on his breath had already answered her. He looked at her with the deepest sincerity in his eyes and his hand cupped her cheek.

"Karl?" she said softly. "What's going on?"

He waited a moment and then spok ein a soft voice.

"Do you know what the cylons want with Kara?"

His question took her by surprise, evidenced by the slight widening of her eyes. She looked down at the sheet of their bed and answered.

"Yes."

* * *

Kara found herself standing at the foot of the bed, staring at it's inhabitant. She heard footsteps in the mostly quiet area, but didn't turn to see who it was.

After all the time she'd had to spend there, listening and watching and not doing much of anything else, she knew now when it was him.

"Hey Doc." she greeted in a quiet tone without taking her eyes away from the pale woman in front of her, breathing mechanically. He stopped beside her.

"Captain." the sandpaper texture of his voice replied.

"Your smell gives you away." she mused of his constant smokey scent, unsure why she felt the need to share that fact with him at the moment.

"Yours too." he retorted. "You drunk, Starbuck?"

"Yes." she answered simply, still not taking her eyes fromt he pilot in the bed. "How is she?"

Cottle blew out a breath and put his hands in his large pockets.

"You want the truth?"

The question itself was answer enough. It told her everything. She finally turned to look at him and the old man, in rare form gave a pat to her shoulder. His own quick form of comfort. Then the Cottle they all knew returned and stated.

"Wake any of these people up and you're banned from my Life Station." he commented. "It finally got quiet."

He then walked away and Kara returned her eyes to the bed, moving to sit beside it. She took her in, and asw with her own eyes the truth he'd asked if she wanted. It wouldn't be much longer. Shifting in the chair, she cleared her throat and called on her voice to do something she should have had the guts to do before it got to this point.

"Sam hated sitting still." she stated, wondering why she'd chosen that fact to begin with.

"He always wanted to be doing something; moving, working, playing..."

She shook her head and felt the smallest hint pull of a grin. She cast a quick glance around the room to ensure no one was awake or arriving to overhear. When she saw no one, she returned to Barolay's unresponsive face.

"But there was another part of him; a sort of ...stillness." she licked her lips, trying to find how to explain it. "There was a peace in him that...he could just look at me and I could see it. I could, um, I could feel it. He could stop me from spinning away when I couldn't stop myself."

She took a steadying breath, a memory coming to her and she continued to share.

"Once..."

* * *

Helo sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

After a moment he looked up at his wife, the disbelief and stress of it all in his eyes.

"I don't understand." he declared.

"Karl-"she tried to comfort him, but he stood up and walked away.

"When?" he asked almost angrily, but keeping his voice under control for fear of waking their daughter. "When is this all supposed to happen?"

"I don't know." she answered. "It doesn't work like that."

"_That's_ the part that doesn't work?" he asked. "The rest of it can be written or-or prohphesized but you can't tell me when?"

"It's not a schedule, Karl. There's no deadline." she argued. "Something has to trigger it. A catalyst. It could be anything now. It could already have started."

"Ok. Then let me ask you this. Maybe you can answer this question." he began. "If this is true. When it's over, when it's all over and cylons get their happy ending, get everything they want...where's Kara? What happens to her in the end?"

"I don't know."

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	32. All The Things She Said

**A/N: So here's my update for this'n...I'm kinda on a roll/frenzy of writing for everything I have right now. Which is good because I hate when I tunnel vision just one and let the others fall to the wayside. I imagine people who've got the author alert thing poppin up say hey guess what? she's working, but not on what you're waiting for...cause i know that breaks my heart a bit when i get one of those. But, can't lie ... it happens. Anyway, here we are with this, getting ever closer to it's finish line. Not saying this is the last one, nor am I saying I can say how many updates are left before it, just that it's coming for sure and we're getting closer. As I've told people, this story is not a sprint, it's endurance.**

**Second and more important than anything, I've put this same bit in all my stories so far and will do it here:**

**I dedicate this and all future creations of mine to my good friend who's life prematurely ended recently. His death has been an incredibly painful blow for me to take and I'm hardly at any point resembling closure. He was a beautiful soul and always encouraging me to follow my inspiration wherever it takes me. **

**I love him and my life, as well as the world, is less than it was without him in it. **

_All The Things She Said by T.a.T.u._

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The satisfying thwack of contact filled the air, the impact sending a ripple up her arm. No one else was there. Of course. Who would want to be there when a crazed, out of control Starbuck could flip on you any second without warning.

Kara couldn't help but want to grin at the fact. There was a dark humor she found in how quickly the few people who'd been in there had cleared out when she came in. People who spent their breath welcoming her back and stating that they knew she couldn't be kept down. Those same people fled when she appeared at what was essentially the scene of the crime. She didn't speak in her defense to tell them if she felt the need to actually kick their asses it certainly wouldn't be because of anything other than she wanted to. She'd only kept a steeled eye while wrapping her hands and once they were all gone, she actually let out a chuckle of amusement before starting her workout.

Since then she'd let her mind work as it normally would. Kara would sort through her thoughts while swinging at the heavy bag. All things dark and evil that danced through her brain, she'd manifest to be printed on the beaten equiptment before her. And she did just that; thinking of many things. Kat, HotDog, Barolay. She refused, however, to allow what Caprica had said to creep into her mind. She wouldn't.

But she did wonder on the newfound...ability she seemed to have acquired. The only thing she knew about it was that it most certainly wasn't normal. She shouldn't be able to...sense Cylon's presence. Not if she was human.

This was where her brain was when footsteps sounded behind her. They came and stopped, but did not go away. Whoever was behind her was only standing there.

"Someone's awfully brave." she commented aloud, throwing another punch. "Not afraid of crazy old Starbuck?"

She mocked, finally turning and seeing her unexpected company.

"I think I've been through enough years of your insanity to not be frightened." the admiral replied in his rough voice, stepping farther into the room.

She surprised him by smiling at his remark. Though not really a smile, more of a smirk as she shrugged and stated.

"Makes you wonder who's really the crazy one here." she teased back.

The old man stood now directly in front of her. She saw the cut along his aged jaw and some bruising around his right eye. Other than that he seemed no worse for wear.

"Souvenier?" she asked, gesturing to the bruise that blotched his skin. He chuckled and ran his knuckles over the tender area, then nodded to her.

"You too." motioning to her own reminders of the previous night; some dark mars on her fair skin which told their own story. She cocked her head to the side and responded.

"What do you get the girl who has everything?" she asked rhetorically.

Privately Adama's heart soard. Hearing her speak, their light banter reminiscent of a time long ago. A time before the strike of Cylons tore at them and scarring everyone seemingly beyond healing. Kara stepped away from the bag and bit the velcro strap on the glove to pull her hand out.

"Is this a social or official visit?" she asked, tossing her gloves aside.

Adama looked her over, taking in the hints of change and small hints of recovery; the light words, the smile. There was still a noticeable tension in her shoulders, however, and he was sure there were more remnants still yet to be assuaged. A shadow still loomed in the deep irises darker than the ones he'd become accustomed to seeing over the years. Yet beneath it, a glimpse of something more; something razor sharp.

Almost as if it were the same look he'd seen in those eyes for years but with a hieghtened presence and knowledge. He turned away, undoing his brass jacket buttons and sliding out of it.

"Thought I'd show you how it's done." he stated, keeping all tone of serious authority in his voice.

"Sir?" she asked confused. He grabbed a set of gloves for himself and instructed simply.

"Hold the bag."

She found herself grinning and gave him a loose salute.

"Yes Sir."

* * *

He saw her coming his way as they walked opposite directions down the corridor.

She spoke something to Gaeta and didn't look at him until they were passing in which she said a simple:

"Major." with a nod and continued on.

Her one word greeting and clipped delivery stung him. But the man knew this was a mess of his own doing. Lee turned and took the steps required to catch up tot he two.

"Dee." he said her name as he reached her, getting a careful hold of her forearm to halt her steps.

She and the lieutenant walking alongside her both stopped and looked at him. His wife looked at him, caution in her eyes.

"Yes, Major?" she asked.

Again Lee felt the bite of her addressing him so formally. Something he was sure she was intentionally doing. He didn't want to talk to Lieutenant Dualla. He wanted, he needed a conversation with his wife.

"Can we talk?" hea sked, a plea swirled in the blue eyes before her.

Dee turned to Gaeta and let him know to go on, she'd follow in a moment. He nodded, giving Apollo a look before continuing on his path down the hall. Lee was glad Dee had someone close, a friend looking out for her.

"What is it Lee?" she asked, her voice sounding tired. He didn't know if it was physical, caused by the strenuous work, or if it was an emotional exhaustion which he was responsible for.

"I want to talk." he repepated.

"Yeah, you said that." she replied curtly. "Talk."

"I want-" his words stopped and he looked around. Not one for public displays of his personal life in his professional world. But he continued. "I'm sorry, ok?"

"That's great, Lee." she commented cynically. "You're sorry and I'm stupid. Because I keep deluding myself into believing that each apology is the last one; that each explanation is the last. But it's not. It never is, there's always another."

"Dee-"

"We were boarded, Lee." she told him as if he needed a reminder. "Cylons were on this ship. People were dying, everything was chaos...and I was thinking of you. My husband."

She shook her head pressing her lips into a tight line a moment and shaking her head.

"What about you?" she then asked. "I'm not dumbe enough to expect you to come blazing after me to make sure I'm alright. It's unrealistic. I know you had a job to do. What I want to know is, did you think of me at all?" she desperately needed to know. "Did my face or my name come into your mind for even the smallest moment?"

Lee looked surprised by the question. Had his wife come to his mind while the chaos of the boarding had erupted? While stepping over bodies and blood did he once feel a cold fear for her? He recalled somene in his mind, a certain woman, but it wasn't his wife. And he hated that about himself.

SHe scoffed and looked down, shaking her heat at his nonanswer. When she looked back up, Lee could see the gloss of tears coating her eyes. Tears. Tears he put there, again. He opened his mouth, his brain screaming at him to give her the answer she needed. But no sound came out. Nothing came out.

"That right there." she spoke again, taking a step back. "That silence says more than any explanation ever could."

He immediately began shaking his head as she backed up still. Putting more and more space between them, but still facing him. The distance separating them now a physical manifestation of that which had been between them and growing for months.

"Don't..." he tried to tell her, but his voice came out barely loud enough for his own ears to hear.

She stared at him, hard through hard through the building tears. Her voice he could hear. She spoke loud enough to reach over the space between their bodies. Perhaps it was because she truly meant the words she spoke as a wet drop made it's way down her face.

"I was _so_ in love with you."

Her name on his lips, the words that erupted in his brain begging her not to keep walking. These notions never making it to birth; never given life, were halted somewhere along the way. They remained frozen within him just as his feet froze him to the spot.

Watching her escape farther and farther until she was completely out of sight, leaving him standing alone in the corridor, he remembered a conversation - the conversation - he had on New Caprica with Kara. The both of them standing on the cusp of separate lives. He asked her if she was afraid he'd one day appear and ruin her apple cart. The irony, he saw now, was that it was _his_ neat and tidy world that was shaken.

Kara thrace returned to his life and what he'd built toppled over. And he couldn't even decide whether or not he was mad about it.

* * *

Helo walked down the hall, his mind a swirl of foreboding thoughts involving what he'd learned. He didn't believe it; in Cylong prophecy or visions. But what he believed didn't matter. What mattered was that they believed it.

And if the outcome was what Sharon interpreted it as, he had to assume the Cylons would do all in their power to bring the cryptic words to fruition. He ran a hand down his tired face, those very thoughts had kept him tossing and turning and awake all through the night. Visions and scenarios conceived by his mind's eye repeatedly playing in his skull in the dark.

Images of the machines taking Kara away once again. He kept seeing her face, pained with realization that she'd been unable to stop them, desperate for answers she didn't have. Answers to why.

She didn't know...What they wanted. What they believed. Why the threat of her death had more effect then any other threat or action. He did.

Walking through the steel hallways, he heard a sound. A laugh.

Taking a few more steps, Helo came to the gym entrance in time to hear the playful words.

"_That's_ a knockout." she said, a voice that held no trace of pain, only a lightness he remembered from all their days of taunting and sparring.

He saw her behind the heavy bag as she continued with a true smile to her company.

"I don't care who you are, that is a knockout in any fight!" she laughed pointing to the admiral.

"Good." Adama replied, breathing slightly on the heavy side. "Because I'm about down for the count myself."

"Come on." she goaded, coming out from around the bag to him. "Show him some more."

She pat her hand on the bag.

"You've got in in you."

Bill's gravelled chuckle following her request. Watching the exchange, Helo couldn't help but compare them to a child trying ton convince her father to keep playing after his energy was spent. Not really because she liked that particular game, but more because they just didn't want to lose that moment with him. Helo was fairly certain this was Kara's drive. She didn't want to be done with this moment just yet.

His heart went out to her; knowing the portion of her family history that he did, he knew that times such as this one with the old man were as precious as breathing to her. A surrogate father he was happy she'd found; and anyone with eyes knew tht familial feeling was reciprocated from the eldest Adama.

"No,no." Bill was laughinly dismissing when he turned and saw Helo. "There you go. A younger partner."

Helo forced a smile despite his dark thoughts and wlaked further into the room. Kara's eyes fell on her friend and he saw her change. A shiled where moments ago there was none. No doubt she was recalling the happenings of their liquored conversation; thoughts she didn't want. Adama, too, noticed a tilt in the air. He was suddenly wary of leaving the two alone. He couldn't stand thet hoguht of backpeddling when she'd progressed so very much. He didn't want to lose an inch of ground.

At the same time, he didn't want to coddle. Didn't want to verbalize his concern to either part, lest it be interpreted in the wrong way. As mistrust. He cast a glance to his pilot. As if reading his mind, hearing his worries, she nodded. She told him she'd be ok and he trusted her word.

Once they were alone, she began right away.

"If this is about what I said when-"

"Kara." he interrupted her; something in his tone, something heavy made her stop.

She looked at him and he took a breath.

"I know."

"You know what?" suddenly uncomfortable and wishing he wasn't in the way of the door.

He reached his large hands out and laid them on her shoulders. She flinched; something she'd been proud of not doing for a while. But it was the heavyness that brought it out. The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes brought it out and she was suddenly extremely ready to get away from him and work to never be alone with him again.

"I know what the Cylons want." he stated slowly.

"Everyone knows what they want." she tried to dismiss. "They want to kill us."

He shook his head and held his hands fast as she tried to shrug them off as if he were dealing with a misbehaving child. That same child that was just having fun moments ago.

"Don't do that." he told her. "Don't play dumb, Kara please. You know what I mean."

She set her jaw and more forcefully, more successfully, moved out from his touch.

"Listen, I talked to Sharon and she told-"

"Sharon knows?" she interrupted. "Perfect. Of course she knows."

"Look, she learned only this last time she resurrected." he informed her. "She learned what the hybrid said, what this-I don't know, prophecy or whatever is you're supposedly a part of."

"I don't want to hear this." she told him turning away, but he grabbed her and spun her back around.

"No, Kara. You can't play denial about this. This is serious."

"Oh is it?" she asked sarcastically. "Well thank you Karl, for clearing that up. You know I thought it was all just a load of fun and games."

"Listen to me-"

"Do you believe it?" she asked him suddenly, catching him off guard. "This...whatever, do _you_ believe it?"

"That doesn't matter, what matters it-"

"They believe it." she finished as if she'd been a part of his thoughts earlier. "I know. They but into whatever mess of words happen to fall out together. But I don't. I'm not buying into any of it, I'm not letting some stupid phrase or poem effect me. So whatever it is, whatever it says, I don't care. I don't want to hear it."

She moved past him adn was almost out the door when his words froze her.

"Has anything changed lately?" he asked. "Anything...unexplainable?"

Helo couldn't say for sure whether or not he believed what he'd heard. If the words truly pertained to the woman in front of him and held some predestined unavoidable outcome.

His words halted her int he doorway. Did he know about that too? Was that part of it? Did it prove the telling to be true if she admitted to him that, yes something strange had come?

Looking down a moment before turning back to him she answered.

"Everything's fine." she lied, leaving quickly before he could call her on it.

Kara rationalized her answer with the thought that she didn't know for sure it had been anything other than heightened awareness brought on by adrenaline. She wouldn't say anything or acknowledge out loud as something to be concerned with until she knew it was still there. She didn't have a destination in mind, at least not until she heard the voice on the overhead announce she was wanted in Adama's quarters.

He was probably making sure she and Helo hadn't re-enacted her crime on his face again; or to discuss her status which was at the moment pretty unclear to her. Either way, she blew out a breath to calm herself and headed in the direction she was beckoned. She came to the door and knocked once, opening it without waiting for a response. She passed throught he hatch and found, not the admiral waiting for her, but instead, the president standing beside his desk admiring his handcrafted ship.

When Kara entered, Roslin stood up straight and turned around.

"Captain." she greeted.

"What's going on?" she asked with no formality, seeing no trace of Adama at all. She didn't take kindly to being misled.

"Close the door behind you, please." she requested, then took off her glasses and set them on the Old Man's desk. "We need to talk."

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	33. Blame It On The Changes

**A/N: Hi again! :) Another update as we continue on this journey toward the finale :) Hope you guys like this one, I really do for some reason.**

**Blame It On The Changes - Dashboard Confessional**

* * *

Kara just stared at her, still surprised.

"Talk?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes. Roslin nodded. Clearing her throat, she asked the older woman. "Is this official?"

"No." Roslin answered. "Just a conversation. No titles or hierarchy."

"In that case..." Kara didn't finish, turning to leave the room. But Laura called out just as her hand reached the door.

"I can make it that way, Captain." she stressed the rank and Kara set her jaw with frustration and turned back around. Roslin saw she was upset but did not address it, other focuses on her mind. She stated firmly: "There are things that need to be discussed here."

"Forgive me if I don't feel like having a chat." the blonde bit back. "I don't respond well to ambushes."

"I apologize for the tactics, but I believed them to be necessary." she informed her. "Now I've read your account of what happened in your experience during the attack on the ship. I noticed you left a few details out."

Kara stood straighter.

"Didn't want to bog it down with unimportant details." she remarked. "You got your credit for shooting Kat, don't worry."

Roslin cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses unnecessarily. The mention of her having a hand in killing someone making her terribly uncomfortable; even a cylon. She wasn't a killer.

"I'm referring to the statements Lieutenant Katraine made to you before she was, before the shooting began."

Kara let out a bitter chuckle and shook her head.

"If I reported every ridiculous comment bragging about how much smarter cylons are, you'd still be reading year old reports." she answered. "I left it out because it's pointless. I've already forgotten it."

Laura crossed her arms and stepped closer. A few feet away from her, the president recalled from memory the words she was referring to.

"I was having trouble deciding between sticking to the plan or killing you." Laura looked into Kara's eyes with intensity after saying the words. "You've forgotten that? Because those words haven't left my mind since I heard them."

"Death threats get easier to deal with when you're as used to them as I am." she replied.

"Sticking to the plan or killing you." she said again, emphasizing the first words. "Sticking to the plan."

Kara started getting uncomfortable. Feeling suddenly that Roslin could see what she hid. The older woman would look at her and call her out on her strange secret.

"You're a smart woman, Captain Thrace, I don't doubt you understand the message there." Roslin went on. "That whatever it is they cylons have in mind, you are a part of it."

Kara pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. Yes, she got that message loud and clear. If she didn't care to talk to Karl about it, a man she'd known as friend for years, she certainly wouldn't be discussing it here with Roslin. Not by choice.

She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to know what it meant. She just wanted it to stop. All of it to finally stop. She shook her head, the pretense of appearing unflappable too exhausting at the moment. It all was.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders. Even her voice sounded tired. "You want me to tell you I think about it? Of course I do. It's always there. I can't get rid of it."

She sighed and put her hands on her hips, her lips pressing into a tight line. Laura looked at her inquisitively feeling a sense that they'd somehow changed topics.

"Are you talking about what Kat said?" she asked for clarification.

"Kat, Leoben..." she trailed a minute, her voice picking up as her brain did. "Six, Sharon, Karl, Lee, The Old Man, The Doc, you."

Her eyes directly holding Roslin's then, the president confused and surprised. Kara barely kept her flowing mind and unfiltered mouth from bringing up her parents. She didn't need that pot stirred right now.

"Captain Thrace, I don't mean to belittle your experiences or the weight of carrying them with you -"

"But you want what you want, right?" Kara finished her sentence for her. "And what you want is a lovely little in depth chat about the cylons and this so-called fate I'm a part of."

Kara shook her head, having reset herself, throwing her moment of what she would call weakness back into a box.

"Well I can't help you. I don't know what they want." she stated. "So, sorry to waste your time."

"I believe you when you say you don't know, but not that you can't help." Roslin argued pointedly. "The fact is there's a cylon on this ship, with I believe, that very knowledge."

"Then there's your answer." Kara told her. "You want to know, go to her."

"I've tried." Roslin informed her. "She refuses to divulge anything about it unless she talks to you first."

"Really?" the pilot asked skeptically.

"Really." Laura nodded. "Says it's not her place to decide who knows. It's yours."

Kara scoffed wishing Sharon had had that same thought before blabbing to her husband. Helo and his damn puppy eyes looking at her like she was some sad, limping animal. Her enemy seemed to have more respect for that then her fellow officer. Fantastic.

"I think it's safe to say you know my answer to that."

"This isn't just about you." Laura told her. "Whatever the cylons want, whatever they're doing, it affects everyone. What remains of the human race is dependent on being able to keep stesp ahead of them."

Roslin's voice getting fiercer, desperate to be able to help the people she led.

"I don't see why you aren't willing to put that above your personal feelings."

Kara narrowed her eyes at her now.

"You think I don't?" she asked angrily. "For years, I have worked slept and breathed for this fleet. I've broken more rules than I've followed, I've frakked up, I've lost friend, people I love..."she paused a moment. "The_ only_ way I can keep going, keep sane, is to tell myself I have a say in how what's left of my life plays out. Even if it's a lie, I have to believe that my actions are my own and not some step-by-step written out for me to follow."

Kara shook her head again and started with finality.

"If I have a choice, I choose to never hear about any path or destiny again."

Kara turned to leave, feeling herself getting too emotional. Before she could, however, Roslin once again spoke up to stop her.

"And if you don't have a choice?" getting the pilot to turn back to her.

"Are you ordering me to talk to her?" Kara asked adn Roslin stepped still closer.

"I'm hoping not to have to." she told her. "If by the end of today you haven't come to that decision on your own, I will officially do so."

"And if I still don't?" she asked, her mouth feeling dry. "I've disobeyed orders before."

"Yes you have. But I don't think you will this time." Laura almost dared. "Because if you do, you will be arrested adn stripped of your rank."

Starbuck didn't flinch at the extreme threat.

"You're bluffing." Kara called out against her. "The Admiral-"

"Admiral Adama and I have already discussed this and come to an agreement."

Kara didn't believe that. Now she knew Roslin was bluffing. Adama would never do that to her...Would he?

Her mind suddenly went to their time in the gym that morning. What were the odds he'd actually come out there to knock the bag around with her? That he hadn't come with another intention: to speak to her about this possibly.

No.

He would have talked to her. He didn't back out of things. An honorable man, a good man, he faced things no matter how unpleasant. But again, things were different weren't they? Nothing was the same as it had been before she left for her bright shining life on New Caprica. Even her relationship with Adama.

Without another word, Kara left the room, walking down the hall as quickly as she could without running. Her thoughts speeding wildly; thoughts of the Old Man, questions about his agenda. She didn't want to believe it. Thta he would agree to such extreme actio nwithout telling her himself. She didn't believe it. It was a play by Roslin.

But a small itch of a question kept returning, the smalledst seed of doubt whispering betrayal to her.

Kara's heart sped, her steps becoming more frantic and less direct. Someone bumped her shoulder andshe spun around with a harsh:

"Watch it!" to whoever it had been.

She could feel her hands shaking and her head throbbed as she continued on. She grimaced, the pain intensifying to the point Kara planted her feet, bracing a hand to the walla and the other to her head. A searing spike in her skull. She leaned over, shutting her eyes to force it away.

With her eyes wrenched closed, the black of her eyelids lasted only a moment.

A flash filled her vision.

Quick and clear. It came and went so suddenly she stepped back in surprise and opened her eyes.

Panting and confused, she looked around her. Alone in the gray steel corridor, she touched her fingers to her temple with the realization that the pain in her head was no longer there. Without any resonance, it was as if it had never been there.

"What the frak?" she whispered shakily to herself.

What just happened...

It was almost like a memory, but it wasn't.

Looking around again at the cold hard metals of the world around her, Kara tried to find sense somewhere.

Her feet began carrying her, her brain felt like it wasn't a part of that decision as it still worked to figure out what happened.

Not even realizing it, Kara had walked to the CAG's office. Noticing where she was, she raised an anxious hand and knocked it against the hard hatch. It opened after a second and Lee regarded her with surprise.

"Kara?" he greeted, obviously not expectin gher. He saw something on her face that made him forget he had been spending hours trying to figure out how to get his life back in some kind of order. "What's wrong?"

Without answering, Kara suddenly pushed herself against him, pressing their mouths together in a hard, desperate kiss. Caught off guard, Lee's mind questioned what was going on, knowing they shouldn't be doing it.

His resolve last all of two seconds before he returned the passion of her kiss. Putting his palm on the back of her head and brought her mouth harder into his. Kara stepped forward, shutting them away in the office attempting to allow herself to be lost in him an what they were doing.

She wanted to forget what Roslin told her and all the strange things that had begun happening. She didn't want to think about anything.

Especially why, in the corridor seconds ago, for the briefest of moments, she had been standing in a great, green field.

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	34. Be My Escape

**A/N: I thought through a few different ways to get L/K to where I wanted this to take them. This is the one that I found most satisfying to the characters even though t's not very long, however... Hope you feel the same, if not, apologies and on we go!**

**Be My Escape by Relient K**

* * *

Roslin sat on the couch in the Admiral's office now alone after her exchange with the captain.

She removed her glasses, pressing her hands against her shut eyes, feeling the building tension behind them. That conversation had gone non where that she'd hoped it would. Her intentions had been to have a talk with Kara and touch several issues, not only the "Cylon Plan".

She realized then that she hadn't even thanked Kara for getting her, safe and alive, through the ship during the chaotic hours where people were dying all over the ship. An intention that hadn't even showed its face while the opportunity was there. The stubborn pilot's resistance to give validation to what was said had frustrated Laura and forced away all other topics from her mind. Instead, she'd reverted with great risk, and possibly regret depending on the outcome, back to using an old trick.

It was dangerous, she knew; dangling a betrayal of Bill's in front of his officer like that. And she knew it would undoubtedly pain Kara to hear such a thing, but it was all Laura could think of to try convincing her to do what must be done. It had worked once before when she needed the pilot to return to Caprica for the arrow, though it started a domino effect that literally divided the fleet in two. The real danger in the threat was, of course, the fact that this time her words were just that: words and nothing more.

Laura put her forehead in her palm and sighed wondering how this would play out. That, and why she hadn't foreseen Kara's reluctance beforehand and prepared a less drastic approach.

* * *

Lee hadn't been expecting this when he heard the knock on his hatch. Kara, obviously upset about something, standing without a word before slamming into his mouth so hard their teeth hit and he was sure he felt his own brain vibrate at the impact. He returned the fierce wanting kiss, his body instantly exploding with fire. His hand went behind her head and pushed her against him even more as his blood pumped red hot at the taste of her.

Kara pushed them forward, kicking the door and shutting them inside. Letting his scent fill her senses and erase the strange aroma of fresh open air that lingered in her mind with the memory of the sudden image in the hall.

Lee stumbled backwards, clumsily stepping out of his boots without removing himself from the passion of their connected mouths. She pushed herself harder against him and he felt the sharp pain sting his lower back when he hit the ledge of his desk with a band that rattled everything resting on it. Taking the opportunity to take charge, he wrapped his arm around her, spinning them so it was her back now at the desk.

Her fingers frantically finding the zipper of his pants while he worked the buttons of his jacket. He felt the pressure of his pants release him from the suddenly too tight fabric. His jacket, undone, she pushed it off his shoulders, sliding her fingers down his arms as she did. He couldn't remember ever feeling more alive than he did in that moment under her touch.

"Kara…"he began when his mouth separated from hers, his voice heavy, eyes dark with pure lust. But she only kissed him again, just as hard as the one that started all of this.

The message was received: it wasn't a time for talking.

She undid her own pants then, pushing them over her hips and letting them fall the rest of the way to the floor. His hands braced her hips and she was up sitting on his desk, pulling his mouth with hers. Lee leaned forward, reaching a long arm behind her and shoving various items off the surface until it was clear. He felt her hand on his back, a constant force to keep pushing him towards her, her other hand planted in the dark mess of his hair.

He was dizzy with her overwhelming all his senses, everything about her touch, her taste, her scent was just as powerfully addictive as he remembered it.

Her hands went under his shirts and lifted them over his head, tossing them unceremoniously to the floor. The chill of their metal world didn't touch him as he only felt the fire of their connection.

He took his turn to even them out, moving his own hands to the hem of her tanks while they kissed. When he began to life the fabric, she made a noise – something of a disproving grunt – into his mouth and pushed his hands away. He tried again and she again pushed his hands away, this time breaking the passion of the kiss.

"Don't." she stated, then moved to return to the kiss. "Leave it."

He allowed her to return to the kiss, meaning to simply forget about it and just indulge himself in the heated cloud surrounding them. But for some reason, perhaps because he could never seem to allow himself to just do something that he wanted without question, Lee felt suddenly that he couldn't let it go.

Now he parted and asked her.

"Why?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked sounding upset. "Are you that much of a tit guy that it bothers you?"

Lee let the crass remark fly over him. He leaned his hands on the desk on either side of her and spoke.

"I just want to know why it bothers you."

"And I just want you to shut off your brain for ten minutes and enjoy this." She answered.

Lee sighed and hung his head for a second then looked up into her swirling eyes and asked quietly.

"Is it because of the scars?" not quite a whisper but close.

She narrowed her eyes and put her hands on his bare chest, pushing him back.

"Forget it." She said suddenly, hopping off the desk and collecting her pants, shaking them out and beginning to put them on. "This was obviously a mistake."

"Kara." He said with a sigh, her defensive reaction giving away that he had guessed right.

He grabbed her arm when she tried to walk past him to get to her own shoes and leave.

"Kara, come on, don't do this."

"Do what, Lee?" she asked sharply. "Slam on the brakes? I'm sure you'll take care of yourself once I'm gone."

"Don't run away." He explained.

She ripped her arm out of his hand and he didn't fight it.

"I'm sorry if I don't get all hot and bothered talking about this." She spat. "If that's how you need to get your rocks off you're gonna have to find someone else, Apollo."

"That's not what I'm doing." He argued. "I asked a question, Kara, that's it. A real question."

"Gods, some things will just never change will they?" she asked rhetorically. "You still over think every single thing. You never just shut up and feel what's happening. Everything needs to be analyzed."

"What about you?" he stated in fiery defense. "You're still the same: throwing up brick walls the second someone gets too close to knowing there's anything behind the hard-ass Starbuck. Gods, how the hell did Anders do it?"

"Careful." She warned him darkly. Lee put his hands up, not pursuing the specific topic any further. She was better than she'd been, _much_ better, but she still didn't talk about Sam to him, or anyone as far as he knew.

"Kara," he started again in a calmer voice. "I just want to know you're ok. That's it. I care about you. I mean, you show up at my door looking like…I don't know, like you've just gone too many rounds with a bottle."

"I'm not drunk, Lee." She stated. She hadn't had a drink at all so far that day.

"I'm just saying, something's obviously bothering. _Really _bothering you. Why can't you trust me? Talk to me, Kara. I want to help you."

She pressed her lips together and he could see her jaw tense. Kara crossed her arms over her chest and took a step closer to him. Lee shifted his weight and watched her, waiting intensely for her next words.

"You can't help everybody Lee." She told him solemnly.

"I'm not." He told her. "I'm not trying to help everybody. Just you."

Her eyes went to the floor and he could tell that it was happening; the wall was falling. He didn't know how long it would last, he just hoped she allowed it down long enough to talk to him about what was going on with her.

"Kara." He said her name in a whisper, encouraging her, putting his hand on her shoulder. She shook her head and looked up to tell him:

"Roslin wants me to talk to Sharon…" she stated. "…about some destiny I've supposedly got."

"Ok." He responded, not sure of the nature of why it bothered her so very much. He knew she didn't like that kind of talk or any talk involving the cylons, but this was _really_ upsetting her. He tried to offer his advice. "Why not just do it and get it over with? It won't mean anything. The cylons and their destinies, it's all just talk and empty beliefs. It doesn't have any power or meaning. Listen to what she has to say tell Roslin, forget about it."

Kara shook her head and Lee felt himself pause.

This wasn't the response he'd known or expected from her. Normally, she'd have already dismissed it as drivel and mind games. But now her reluctance made him wonder if she actually gave some credit to it.

"Kara, you don't believe this stuff, do you?" he asked. "I mean, you don't think anything they say could actually be true, right?"

She shrugged and told him what he certainly never expected to hear from Kara Thrace.

"I don't know anymore."

"What?" he asked her shocked. "Kara, that's ridiculous. Why would you even-"

"Because." She interrupted to halt him before she lost her resolve to tell him. She looked in his eyes and forced out the start of her confession.

"Because something's happening, Lee…to me."

x

x

x


	35. Head Full Of Doubt

**A/N: Glad you guys liked the K/L interaction in the last bit. It makes me think I'm actually NOT doing an awful job with the characters realism.**

**Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise by The Avett Brothers**

* * *

"What do you mean something's happening to you?" Lee asked in response. "What's happening?"

Kara put her hands together, debating whether it was best to go forward with trying to tell him before she'd figured anything out for herself.

"I'm …not sure." She forced out and stepped closer hoping it was the right decision. "You remember when we found the six in the causeway during the boarding?"

"Yeah." He answered.

"Didn't you think it was a little weird? I mean, the way we found her?"

"Of course. It was all a little weird, but there was a lot going on-" he paused, pointing an index finger as he recalled a detail he'd managed to forget. "She asked you…if you felt it."

Kara nodded at his memory. Lee shifted his weight on his feet and then asked curiously.

"What did you feel?" he paused, then went on. "Is that it? The-The feeling or whatever it is, is that what's happening to you?"

"Part of it." She nodded, feeling more and more exposed as the exchange went on.

"What did you feel?" he repeated his question. Kara paused a moment and forced herself to answer in a single word.

"Her."

Lee raised his eyebrows at her response. He shook his head.

"Her?" he asked. "I don't understand."

Kara scoffed. "Join the club."

He put a hand on his hip and ran his other across his jaw.

"Ok." He spoke more like a question than a statement. "Can you explain it any better?"

She let out a groan of frustration, more with herself than his questions.

"I don't know Lee." She confessed, shrugging her shoulders. "I, I was there and I felt this, I don't know, this awareness. But it was more than that, it was almost like a charge and I knew she was there. I felt….her."

"Kara…" he began shaking his head.

"It happened again." She went on before he could dismiss her as crazy or stressed. Wasn't she supposed to meet up with Farrow again soon? She couldn't remember, but that wasn't the point because she wasn't crazy. "I followed D'Anna and I was standing outside the door and I knew she wasn't alone."

"Of course she wasn't, Kara, it was a trap." He excused. "One you're damn lucky to have gotten out of."

"No, Lee, it wasn't luck." She argued. "I knew exactly where to shoot as soon as I went in. Without looking around, I knew right where to turn and fire…and I got him. Bull's-eye, right in the chest."

"Kara, I've seen you pull off so many unthinkable things since we've known each other." He reminded her. "That's what I'm chalking this up to, Kara. Instinct. Yours."

"Damn it, that's not it." She argued.

"Then what is it?" he asked. "You've got, uh, DRADIS now?"

"Don't laugh at me, Adama." She demanded at his cynical chuckle.

"I'm sorry, but Kara, this is impossible."

"Well, impossible kind of went out the window about three years ago don't you think?" she returned. "After everything that's happened, everything we've seen…how can we call anything impossible anymore?"

Lee sighed, realized she had a very good point. Impossible had been cylons passing as people; their worlds being destroyed, pregnant machines, him and his father _ever_ being near good terms again…So many things that were "impossible" were now facts.

"Lee," she said his name in a softer tone now. He looked into her eyes, swirling with so very much. Her voice was nearly whisper quiet, as if she didn't want the following words to exist. "What if I'm one…a cylon?"

"No!" he shot down right away. "No, I refuse to even consider that to be anywhere close to a possibility."

"But it _is_ a possibility, Lee!" she replied, not hiding how upset she was by the disturbing thought. "You think I like thinking that? Gods, just considering it makes me want to swallow my gun."

"Ok,Ok." He spoke. "Let's calm down."

Kara's mention of suicide unnerved him greatly. He didn't want to think she'd ever think about it. Though he could remember the feeling of hopelessness that had made it seem like a bright light in the dark abyss life had become.

"If you're a cylon, why would they have locked you up, huh?" he wondered aloud. "I mean, why do that to one of your own?"

"I don't know." She repeated the tired statement. "Maybe to trigger me, turn me on, whatever."

Lee shook his head, it didn't make sense. But really, what did anymore?

"Maybe-"

A loud knock cut off whatever speculation she was about to voice and Lee's office door opened soon after.

"Excuse me sir, I just need – Oh." Dee stopped her words and footsteps when she looked up from the board of papers in her hand.

The Lieutenant's eyes widened a bit in surprise and Lee recognized right away how it appeared. The two of them still disheveled. Their clothing, at least what he'd put back on – his jacket was still crumpled on the floor atop his boots – and all manner of objects strewn around the room from clearing of the desk. It looked as iff…well as if they had been doing exactly what they had been at first.

Lee thought he should say something, but what could he say? It was exactly what it looked like. And it was Dee who'd ended things. Although, Lee knew he hadn't been the epitome of perfection as far as husbands go, but it still was Dee who put the final nail in it. But he still felt the need to explain the situation away.

"Dee…"

"Sorry sir. I should've waited for you to open the door. Old habit, I didn't mean to…interrupt." She cast her eyes to Kara who put her hands on her hips and looked down. She wasn't intimidated by Dualla, but she didn't need to stand there and take her criticizing glare. She had other things, more important things on her mind than witnessing the awkward interaction between the couple.

"It won't happen again." Dee finished, looking back to Lee. She cleared her throat and held out the clipboard. "Just need your signature, sir."

"Yeah." He cleared his own throat too. "Yes of course."

Habitually, he turned toward his desk for a pen. The blank desktop greeted him and he realized like an idiot he would need to find one on the floor among the mess. Unless of course Dee had one handy and would allow him to use it.

Not daring to ask, he scanned the floor with eyes quite embarrassed. Then out of the corner of his vision, he saw Kara extend her arm, metallic pen in hand. He took it without a word, clearing his throat again while his name scratched on the line, and handing it back over to his ex. Dee took it and left, making sure to close the hatch behind her.

Lee let out a breath and turned to Kara who almost seemed to enjoy his awkward discomfort.

"Brutal." She commented.

"Tell me about it." He replied, remembering he had to talk to his father about some new CAP formations he'd been working on. He turned to her. "I think its best we don't tell anyone else about what's happening yet. At least until we know more. Because if people know they'll jump to the same conclusion you did. Call you a cylon and demand blood."

"I can respect that." She shrugged her shoulders. "It's what I'd do."

Lee got himself gathered to go meet with his father. He cast his eyes back to Kara. She leaned on his desk, arms crossed and clearly deep in thought. He knew once he allowed himself to step away from trying to keep her calm with rationalization, he would be as disturbed by it as she was.

When he looked presentable again, he touched a hand to her shoulder, watching her troubled irises come to his.

"Maybe you should think about talking to Sharon." He suggested and continued as he could see the rebuff on her lips. "Not because Roslin wants you to. Do it for yourself. Get an answer or two, it could help."

"Doubtful." She answered and he offered a sympathetic look. "Think about it, Kara."

The woman watched him leave and shook her head, biting her lip as her thoughts ran. She muttered a quiet, 'Frak' to herself.

Kara left, her mind echoing all of the things they said in their conversation. So now Lee knew. Some of it, anyway. They hadn't gotten around to the rest. With it at the forefront of her mind, she returned to the exact spot in the corridor she was in when it happened.

Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and recreated the split-second image. The vibrant colors of greens and blue, the scent of air fresher than she'd ever tasted. It twisted her confusion to an entire new level. It had been so crystal clear recalling it stung her eyes with the threat of tears. What got to her the most was that it didn't feel like an imaginary scene…it felt almost like a memory.

Like she had been in that spot in the grass looking up at the sky, but she knew that wasn't possible.

Shaking her head, she let out a breath and opened her eyes. Taking steps with renewed determination, she moved quickly through the halls until she got to her destination. Without a word of greeting, Kara walked to stand directly across from her. She saw the surprise in the cylon's eyes and Kara spoke first.

"Tell me everything."

"Are you sure?" Caprica asked from her spot behind the bars in the cell she'd been put in while they reconstructed the holding room she'd broken out of. Kara nodded and repeated with affirmation.

"Everything."

X

X

x


	36. Weight Of The World

**A/N: Alrighty, this isn't too long but I liked the final piece so I left it as is. Answers anyone? Bueller? Here we go…and yes…we are approaching the climactic conclusion…it's on the horizon not far away.**

***Weight of the World – by Blue October**

* * *

Her eyes followed the framework.

The white body so clean it appeared to not simply shine, but there was almost a glow to it. A light radiating of the polished surface. A light that spoke to her; welcomed her…always welcoming her.

Her viper; her girl.

It didn't care what happened, what was happening or what would happen. It didn't care about words. It asked no explanations of her. It was always there. Always waiting for her, always offering what she needed. All it asked of her was to be freed as it was supposed to be. To taste the sky and dance among the pitch black heavens.

It was made for it…meant for it.

Her conversation with the cylon still too fresh in her mind. Consuming everything in her head.

"_You've always known there was something different about you, haven't you?" Caprica asked in speculation. "Something that set you apart from everyone. Something…special."_

She flattened her palm on the smooth surface. Up close, with intent focused eyes, the imperfections could be seen. Dents and dings, wounds encountered during chaotic fiery bouts of purpose. It was marred by where it had been, what it had seen and survived.

Scarred.

Like her.

_Kara hated that word. _

_She remembered all the times in her life it would come to her ears in the form of her mother's voice. Telling her she had to be strong. Be a warrior. _

_Because she was special._

"_Special how?" she asked, their eyes locked with respective measures of intensity. One pair in need of answers, the other with the very knowledge she sought. "Am I a cylon?"_

Kara's eyes were so completely engrossed on the machine in front of her, she didn't notice she was no longer alone.

The eyes of her visitor watched closely a few moments. Seeing the sort of concentration in her features, he knew her mind was somewhere serious. Helo could only imagine what it was that commandeered her thoughts so.

Her hand slowly moved along the painted surface and he felt a pang in his chest as he watched her deliberate actions. Though he tried to keep a somewhat normal attitude, he couldn't deny seeing his old friend differently since speaking with his wife. Regarding her in a microscopic light; analyzing her actions and words, no matter how insignificant they appeared, for signs.

Helo debated whether or not to make himself known. Torn between wishing to leave her in peace and the need to be around her. To memorize her in the event he found himself in a worl without her. If she were lost…a casualty of destiny.

"_No." Caprica answered. "It's not that simple."_

"_Than what?" she asked, doubting that she could keep the desperation from her voice for very long. _

"_What am I? If-If I'm not a cylon but I can…sense cylons, I've got some machine reading my palm…What does it mean? What's the destiny you keep talking about?"_

He approached her, not making overly loud footsteps on his way, but not keeping quiet either. Kara was still in her silent conversation with the viper when she became aware of him. She lowered her hand and spoke without looking away from the plane.

"How's the baby?" she asked, more than anything because she didn't really know what to say to him. The closest person to her that knew more than anyone.

Helo stopped moving when she asked the question. He ewas still behind her, she definitely hadn't looked at him.

"How'd you know it was me?" he asked, remembering Sharon's words about what would begin happening. An awareness…something that couldn't be explained if you'd never felt it.

"Hera spit up on you," she answered, turning around. "I can smell it."

Helo looked down at his shirt that he thought he'd done a good job of cleaning after his daughter had, in fact, spit up on him a few hours ago. He sniffed the fabric and could smell it too. He felt a grin, it was a normal clue and deduction that made her know it was him behind her. Nothing else.

"Relax Karl. I'm not using my 'super powers.' " she mocked with obvious distaste.

Helo cleared his throat, feeling the tense air around the words, and followed her lead, sitting on a forgotten mechanic's gurned near the ladder of her viper. He hung his arms over his knees and sat silently, waiting for her to set the bar for their conversation.

"I guess I can't be upset or anything, right?" she asked after a second. He turned his head to look at her. "I mean, spending your life as a frak-up…I guess I should be glad to find out I'm actually good for something."

"You've always been good for something." He began. "Other than giving me your money at the tables."

He tried to joke with her and heard a humorless chuckle from her in response. She shook her head, looking out at the empty space around them.

"How do we always end up here?" she asked herself more than him.

"Where?" he questioned her in return.

"You trying to hold my hand when things suck." She replied than shook her head again. "Me and Lee, living in 'almost' with each other. And at the end of the day, it's all pointless anyway. You know? Down to the wire, it doesn't matter who's on your side, who says they're on your side…you're on your own. You gotta face things alone. Fine print."

"You really believe that?" he asked her, both surprised and slightly offended. "After everything, all the years we've known each other, you really think that? That I'd let you face anything on your own?"

She wanted to smile at him, but resisted. As much as she loved his devotion, she couldn't encourage it right then.

"Karl…come on." She reasoned with a soft tone. He meant so much to her. "You know what I know. You know you can't follow this path or whatever it is. It's just me."

Now he looked up ahead, knowing how painfully true her words were. He couldn't do anything if it was true, and at the moment she certainly was treating it that way. Maybe it was merely the shock of hearing it finally. To, at last, know what her life – supposedly – was meant to amount to.

"Yeah." He answered quietly, still looking in front of him. "Do you know what happens after, when it's all over?"

"When it's over…" she stared, knotting her hands together loosely, having asked Caprica for that same answer. "…one side gets a happy ending. All I can do is make sure it's the right one."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." She told him with a sigh. Allowing their eyes to meet long enough for an understanding to be spoken between them.

"_An angel, born in the body of suffering, will come. With pains written as stories upon her skin. She will fall to her lowest to rise anew, taking on her wings, her believers to the Promised Land."_

_Kara felt torn between shouting at the cylon and laughing._

"_That's not me." She dismissed. "There's no way."_

"_It is." Caprica answered with a nod. "It always has been."_

"_An angel?" she repeated cynically. "An angel, _me_? I knew this was crazy. This is what I get for even considering this. Thanks. I feel better now, knowing it's all just a mix up."_

"_Angels are amongst us." She assured. "Everywhere. In many forms."_

"_And I'm one of these forms?" she asked disbelievingly. "You're seriously lost. All of you. Think about it. That's what your fancy hard drive is supposed to be good at, right? Logic. 'Fall to her lowest.' I'd say months as a cylon punching bag is about as low as anyone can get."_

_She turned her head dramatically, looking over her shoulders._

"_Don't see any wings back there."_

"_Don't mock." Caprica stated firmly then went on. "Physically, yes it's low. But when the signs started, were you physically low?"_

_Kara scoffed, stopping when it was half out her throat._

_Barolay. _

_That's when it started. After she got shot, when Kara watched her final link to Sam taken away. When D'Anna was taunting her. When she heard Adama may be plotting with Roslin against her._

_She raised her eyes to the cylon's. Caprica seemed to see that Kara was absorbing it more and more, she said nothing. Then a thought came to the pilot._

"_Earth." Kara speculated. "That's the finish line. If this is true, I mean, I'm…you're saying I'm gonna get us to Earth?"_

_Without directly answering the question, Caprica went on._

"_You have to be careful, Kara." She warned the woman. "The visions will continue. The road will become clearer over time, it's started already you know that. There's no stopping it now. But they can be manipulated. Circumstances can bring them forward faster."_

_Circumstances._

"_Suffering." She guessed. _

"_The cylons know this. They will try to get to you again. Do whatever it takes to get to Earth first."_

Kara stood up after a few more moments and walked across the floor to the hatch. Leaving Helo sitting where he was. His mind awash with all the unwanted knowledge. The message he'd read in his friend's gaze was exactly the one he feared.

He watched her reach the door and pass through it. The image of her disappearing from view a foreboding stab in his chest.

"_What'll happen afterwards?" Kara asked. "Once Earth is found?"_

"_Nothing." Caprica answered, seeming like there was a lot more than that to it._

"_Nothing?" she repeated not entirely understanding. "What? Your prophecies don't go that far? Whoever wrote it took the day off?"_

_Caprica looked away a moment, giving Kara an unsteady feeling. _

_The cylon returned her gaze after a brief moment and Kara thought she saw regret…maybe a sadness in the eyes looking at hers._

"_The destiny is reached." She told Kara with a small pause. _

"_The journey ends."_

X

X

X


	37. Suicide Blonde

**A/N: I have so many many apologies for how long it's taken for me to update this. I actually started this chapter 2 times, trying to find just the right way to do it. It was actually a pretty difficult one for me to do. There's mental and emotional unpleasantness afoot for sure. But we have to take into consideration the mindset our favored heroine would have to be in in such a situation. I hope I conveyed it believably, but it's not up to me to say so. I leave that to you, whoever of you is still reading…**

_**Suicide Blonde by Jack's Mannequin **_

XX

* * *

XX

Kara lay in her bunk with the curtains drawn, encasing herself in her own piece of privacy. She could hear evidence that there was still a world of sorts beyond her hideaway. Some steady breathing, a couple snores, and a few mumbles. There were even the quick short breaths of someone taking the opportunity in the dark to pleasure themselves.

Nothing new to any of it, not even the fact that she was awake to hear it all. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and willed her brain to shut the hell up. Fifty thousand questions and thoughts were chasing away even the smallest bit of sleep.

Earlier with Karl, she'd felt so…she didn't know how to explain it. Like a passenger on a crashing plane who'd accepted what was happening. Helpless to stop it and just sitting back and waiting. But after walking away from their conversation; after drink number five –or maybe it was six- and after almost coming to blows with some knuckledragger for a reason she couldn't even remember, Kara didn't know what she really felt. What she was supposed to feel.

So now she had some answers, bid deal. It still made no sense.

She was, what? An angel?

An angel in disguise who feels cylons and gets flashes of a place she's never been. An angel who spent her life ruining people.

It was stupid. All of it.

But then what was it that was making those things happen.

Starbuck made a fist and knocked it against her forehead.

"Stop it." She whispered and bumped her skull again. "Shut up."

A memory presented itself to her, from a long time ago. A young Kara was listening to her mother's angry voice.

"_Oh I'm sorry, did I upset you?" she asked sarcastically. "Well deal with it! That's life, Kara. It's gonna kick your ass and shit all over you! You want it to stop? Might as well just kill yourself, cause it _doesn't _stop. It never stops, not until you're dead!"_

Kara pulled herself away from the memory, staring up at the bunk above her.

The words echoing in her head, she raised her hand with her index and middle finger extended and her thumb up. Pointing it at the bunk above her, she closed one eye and whispered.

"Bang." Hitching her hand as if it were a gun's recoil. She repeated the action again. "Bang."

Staring at her invisible target, she opened her eye and brought her hand back down. She kept her eyes straight as she touched her fingertips to her temple.

"Bang."

She let out a breath that nearly escaped as a laugh. But she refused to actually laugh. She wasn't insane, and she would not let this be what drove her to it. She refused.

Kara ran a hand over her face and scolded herself. Sitting in the dark ready to bust out laughing at the thought of suicide, she had to get ahold of herself. She needed to seriously get a grip before she actually lost it and did something.

Because as cowardly as it felt, as she knew it was, the idea of simply ending it was sounding less insane and more tempting every time it came. But in the end, if the only way to ruin things for the shiny bastards was to pull that trigger and take herself out of the equation once and for all…there couldn't be hesitation.

Why give them a chance?

Why not screw 'em over right now before it ever gets that far?

The gun was nearby. Just a few steps and a locker door away.

Kara shook her head again and sat up, throwing her curtain roughly aside. The rings sliding against the bar made a quick screech at the action, disrupting the normal music of the room. She rose and walked across the room to her locker. Her hand hovered a moment before opening the steel door. The same hand reached blindly in the dark to where she knew from memory her holster was. She found the cold metal handle and removed it from its resting place.

Kara held it, felt its weight, breathing slowly as she ran a free hand over it. The part of her mind that brought her out of bed to that very spot swelled with anticipation. There was a promise in the weapon. It spoke out, vowing peace, quiet, rest.

Her thumb moved on its own, and just like that the safety was off and the weapon was hot. She couldn't lie, she wanted that promise. Kara then felt her arm lift as if weightless; there was a small voice in her skull asking what the hell she was doing. Telling her to stop. But it wasn't loud enough to overpower what felt like the automatic actions of a body in control.

Before the gun was in position, her storming eyes found themselves suddenly looking at her locker door. It was dark, but she knew exactly what she was looking at even without being able to see it. Kara knew exactly where the picture was hanging, the image carved into her mind forever.

With a sudden exhale, her arm fell to her side like the heaviest thing in the world. Her chest moved with large breaths as if she'd run miles, her heart pounding she raised her armed hand and stared at the silhouette of the weapon. She returned the safety and gracelessly threw it into the locker, resulting in the loud bang of metal hitting metal. She then slammed her locker door shut, another bang, and laid her forehead against it.

"Knock it off!" a sleepy voice angrily ordered from his bed. Kara, without lifting her head replied.

"Shut the hell up." She spoke, trying to calm her heart. "Go back to sleep."

She pressed her head harder into the steel until it hurt, then breathed out quickly and left the room as fast as she could and left the room as fast as she could, not caring what disturbance she may cause to those able to actually get some sleep. Out in the corridor, she moved without pause. Her only destination being as far away from there and what just occurred – almost occurred – while there.

Kara passed a few random people in the halls at this time of night for whatever reason. The thought came to her that she had to say something about this. She had to find a way to get it out, talk about it, or else she may not be able to put her hand back down next time.

She couldn't do that. She was Starbuck. She survived. She fought. She didn't give in to the coward's way out.

She hadn't spoken to Farrow for a while. Maybe she should give that a shot. After all, wasn't this the exact sort of thing shrinks were for? The kind of people that stood in the dark and held guns to their heads…those were people who had to talk to someone. As much as she hated it, absolutely hated to admit it, she was one of them now; someone who needed help.

Kara needed help or she would genuinely and completely lose any fragile grasp she had left on her sanity. So she decided she would go to CIC, have them radio over for Farrow to get his ass to the Galactica double time. She was just outside the area, humming with minimal activity for the late hour. Before she could go in, her feet planted, freezing her on the spot. Kara swallowed, her eyes winding over everyone inside.

She tried to swallow her pride; to not care if others knew what she'd admitted to herself only moments ago.

But…she couldn't.

Whatever pieces were left of who she was before this banded together to preserve at least this about her.

_Don't show them._

_You're still Starbuck._

_Find another way._

The voice in her head demanded these things of her. She felt her hands shake and turned away, storming off with a growl. Kara found herself stomping through the corridors of pictures; passing blurs of photographs, remainders of lives passed. She turned roughly where she knew it would be.

Kara walked up to it and touched the image with tender fingertips.

"Sam…" she started quietly and shook her head . "I don't know what to do."

She paused as if she expected some sort of response from the image of her last husband. But of course none came. She took a shaking breath and closed her eyes. She grit her teeth tightly and spoke through them.

"Tell me what to do." She demanded opening her eyes to look at him again.

She didn't know why she was suddenly feeling the need to ask him…she'd already gone insane it seemed, if she was here talking to a dead man's photo.

"Tell me." She said angrier, slamming her hand against the wall beside the picture, not casting a thought to the memories of those people pictured where she hit.

"You son of a bitch." She shook her head. "You stupid son of a bitch! You should never have-"

She stopped, breathing heavily as she glared at his picture. Kara clenched her jaw, swallowing a lump and feeling the sting of tears approach. Her anger surged, before she knew what she was doing, her arms had already moved. A rage filled shout echoed in the empty space, her hands swiped across the wall sending a number of precious faces into the air and fluttering to the floor.

Kara's chest heaved up and down and she looked at the wall; at the streak of empty space now there. Her eyes went next to the floor. His face looked up at her from the floor. She gasped a small breath and scanned the others who'd fallen as well. All their faces, all those eyes were looking up at her. People who died, people who deserved more than they got.

Kara put her hands to her head.

"Oh Gods." She breathed out shakily.

She then fell to her knees and began gathering them up.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She muttered desperately.

Rising, her hands shook as she tried to put them back on the wall where they'd been, apologizing the entire time. Some refused to stay, falling once more to the ground at her feet. She tried one more to get them all on the wall, a few still took the same route of returning to the floor. Kara's quivering hands dropped the rest, backing away slowly from them. She swiped at a few rebellious tears before turning into a full sprint away from the area.

At the door, she banged furiously, not caring about the time or the fact that he was sleeping. She needed to do it now or she'd lose her nerve completely.

The hatch finally opened and the old man appeared, obviously shaken from rest. He looked at her first with angrily, then with surprise when he realized who his visitor was.

"Kara."

"I need to talk to you." She stated, barely able to keep from simply breaking down right there in front of him.

"Come in." Adama replied right away to the woman he claimed as his daughter. He stepped aside and closed the door behind her.

He took in her appearance and knew immediately that this was something very real and very painful for her to bear.

"What is it, Kara?" he asked in his rough voice. Kara paced back and forth before finally speaking.

"I wasn't sure where to…"she trailed off and shook her head.

"Kara…" he encouraged her to trust him. "you know you can talk to me."

"I can't.." she tried to steady her breath and give her voice strength. "I can't do this."

She shook her head.

"Not alone." She continued. "Not anymore."

She paused, feeling the tears shine in her eyes, confessing to him.

"I need help."


End file.
